The Lion of Ivalice
by ObsidianDawn
Summary: When the pillars of that life came crashing down, I did not stand and watch them fall. I turned, and walked away. I did not know that I would end up in The Southern Sky.
1. A Beoulve In Bethla

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**Part One: The Southern Sky**

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_When the pillars of that life came crashing down_

_I did not stand and watch them fall_

_I turned, and walked away_

_I did not know that I would end up in The Southern Sky_****

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**Chapter One: A Beoulve in Bethla**

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Ramza trudged through biting wind and blinding snow, eyes dark and downcast. He could barely feel the cold, though he was hardly dressed for a trek through the barren, ice packed earth. All he could think of was the flame, consuming his entire life in mere moments. In the blink of an eye, he had lost everything.

Dusk was approaching, illuminated by the roaring fires of Fort Ziekden some miles behind him. After the explosion, Ramza simply walked away without looking back. Teta and Delita, as much family to him as his own blood, were dead, and he was partly responsible. Once again, as he stumbled through the snow, he cursed the Beoulve name. Zalbag, Dycedarg, they were liars. What honor they may have had once long since degraded into arrogance, their hearts turned cold to those they should have loved.

His brothers were not to be trusted, and as dead to him as Delita and his sister. With that realization came a sharper, more defined pain, so strong it brought Ramza to his knees. He may never see Alma again. His sister, the one who gave him hope when he felt so close to despair, may as well have died in that same explosion.

With time, he would come to see that he was being melodramatic, emotional, but at that moment all he could do was kneel in the cold landscape and mourn. The one person in the world he felt he could trust was gone, and he had nowhere to go. He couldn't go back to the Hokuten, not now.

"Father… what did I do wrong?"

Ramza's voice was a whisper lost in the freezing wind, eyes squeezed shut. He knew Balbanes would have no wisdom for him now as he had in life, he simply wished he had the same conviction, the same honor, his father had. Ramza pressed his fists into the ground, and forced himself to stand. Though it hurt to go on, he knew he must. Balbanes would have, and Ramza refused to do wrong by him.

* * *

Lying in bed, the ruckus from the bar filtering through the floor beneath him, Ramza failed to fall asleep. He had wandered without a purpose in the weeks since his escape from Ziekden, most likely assumed dead, finally arriving in Dorter. The trade town was a small comfort to him, though only very small, and put his mind to work. Unfortunately, only one thought repeated itself.

_Where do I go from here? _

He'd considered it only briefly during his time in Dorter, each time deciding he would just continue on and see where he ended up. Yet, he still hadn't left the city. The gil he'd carried as he left the Hokuten would run out eventually, and he couldn't live off of a craft. His only craft was combat, and he was no longer sure he'd be happy making a living off of that.

Which is why he hadn't given a definite answer to the Mercenary who had approached him just hours before. Ramza couldn't recall the man's name, but he'd been quite insistent on it. He had said that he would be leaving in the morning, with or without him. It was a promising offer, with good pay, and yet Ramza was reluctant for only one reason; He'd heard something else that had interested him.

In Dorter, gossip wasn't merely related to the events surrounding the city. Merchants came from across all of Ivalice, each with their own stories and news. One piece of news interested Ramza, and he'd listened intently. It was another two hours before sleep finally claimed him, but by then he'd made his decision.

* * *

The Impenetrable Fortress, Bethla Garrison. The daunting title matched its appearance, as the fortified structure loomed overhead. Moonlight danced off the outer walls of the fort, as Ramza in turn danced around them. He moved quietly and quickly through the shadows, grateful he had learned to be light on his feet during his time in the Northern Sky.

It didn't take the young Beoulve long to find an unguarded entrance to the fort, proving that it was only a name attached to Bethla, not a fact. During this time of peace, even with the extra compliment of reserves at the fort, security was light. He was unsure of the layout of the fort, but fundamentally it was surely the same as any other.

He entered through a small escape passage on the north side, slipping in when the wall patrols had passed. Ramza moved with stealth through dimly lit corridors, listening for sound before silently checking a few rooms. Eventually he found what he was looking for, and slipped inside. Though the lower catacombs of Bethla might be deserted, where he was going was sure to not be, and he couldn't simply walk past the Nanten guards dressed as he was.

A White Lion dressed as a Black, Ramza slipped back into the corridor. Disguised as one of the Nanten afforded him a little more protection from discovery, but it was hardly perfect. If he looked out of place, and given his unfamiliarity with the Garrison that was entirely possible, he was done for. Taking a deep breath to steel himself, the teenage Beoulve went up.

Thankfully, at this late hour, many of the soldiers had turned in for the night. The few that passed him simply nodded and went on their way, until another man, around his age, walked right up to him.

"Excuse me?" The boy asked, nervously tucking brown hair off of his face. "Do you know where the south watch is to report to?"

Ramza froze, panicking. Before he could even stammer out an explanation, the other boy laughed lightly.

"Right, you must be new to Bethla, as I am." The young man said, shaking his head. "I apologize. I'm sure I'll find it. Maybe I should start on the south side of the fort…"

The Nanten strode off, leaving Ramza with a stuttering heart and a sharp exhale. He'd been lucky, and decided not to press it. If Bethla was anything like any of the smaller forts in Gallione, he'd have to keep going up.

For almost a half an hour he had traipsed through the Garrison, still overwhelmed by its size. It was smaller than Igros, definitely, but not by a great deal. As it was, he found his destination by accident, as an officer slipped out of the door. Ramza hugged the corner, watching as the man left, before approaching.

Taking a deep, calming breath, he opened the door and slipped inside, instantly aware that he'd interrupted something. Three gazes leapt to him as the door settled shut, all of them making it clear he was not meant to be there. The two knights, closer to him than the older man, stood silent, waiting to see what their commander did.

"Leave us." The man ordered, eliciting confused glances from both of his Lieutenants. "Now."

The knights did as instructed, taking even more interest in Ramza than they had moments before. He watched them as they left, and it wasn't until the heavy door had closed that the General spoke.

"You, my boy, are definitely not one of my soldiers." He said quietly, cool gray eyes locked onto Ramza.

Ramza instantly dropped to one knee, pressing his fist to the floor and lowering his head. It had come down to this, and if he was wrong, he may well be paying for his mistake with his life.

"Count Orlandu, sir." He said respectfully. "My name is-"

"Oh, I'm well aware of who you are. I'd know that face anywhere. What I would really desire to know, young Beoulve, is what you are doing here."

"I have nowhere else to go, sir."

Orlandu stared at him for a long moment, before stepping forward to stand directly in front of Ramza.

"Stand." He ordered, and Ramza obeyed.

"I am impressed you made it this far, though that does not concern me as much as the _why_ you have come to me."

"My… father spoke of you. He said you were the only man he ever trusted, his only true friend."

"That held true for Balbanes, but not for you young knight. You infiltrated a stronghold maintained by Duke Goltana. This could be construed as an act of war, you realize?"

"I no longer am a member of the Northern Sky, sir."

"Oh? So you came here as a traitor, is that it? You wish to defect without your brother's knowledge? Or perhaps Larg wishes a spy inside the Nanten, one that I would be less likely to dispose of."

"I come as none of those things, My Lord. I only know that I myself have no one else to trust. My brothers have no love save for our name, and no remorse for those who threaten it. They dishonor it without truly knowing they do so."

Orlandu stood silent, taking stock of the young man in front of him. The resemblance to Balbanes was plain, and the words spoken rang with the same tone. Cid was not quick to trust, but he could see no lie in Ramza's eyes, nor hear it in his voice.

"The Northern and Southern Sky have not fallen upon each other, and I have no desire to make war with my brothers. I do not wish to live under their command, either, sacrificing my father's honor for their own." Ramza said plainly, his gaze burning a hole in the floor of the man's study.

After a long moment, Cid walked silently to the window overlooking the Garrison. Ramza stood where had kneeled, hands clasped behind his back. Thus far, it looked as though he may live through the night, and that his father's trust had been well placed.

"Balbanes was the only man who was ever my equal on the battlefield, and I respected him more than any of the knights I have fought alongside in the Fifty Year War. If you are true to what you say, which I believe you are, I may be able to help you."

"Thank you sir."

Cid turned to him once more, arms crossed over his barrel chest. His eyes were like cold iron, gray and assessing, but there was a light there Ramza hadn't noticed before. A small smile touched the seasoned general's lips.

"You do look so much like him." He said with a small sigh. "Return that uniform where you found it, and I'll have room prepared for you. I suggest you not use your name lightly here, as it is rather recognizable."

Ramza nodded lightly, a wave of relief washing over him.

"Welcome to the Southern Sky, Ramza Beoulve."

* * *

**Author's Note**: I got to wondering how the story would have been different had Ramza not joined up with Gafgarion, which I saw as somewhat out of character for him. So I decided to write up a story where that one thing changed, and the effects it would have on everything after. It's going to be daunting, trying to match up key plot events when Ramza isn't following the same path, but that's the fun part.

I began this story with an outline, making it the first one that I wrote without simply… writing. However after I got halfway through the second chapter, I realized that an outline narrowed my thinking too much, and have discarded the idea. It's just not for me. I may be editing this opening chapter and revising it completely, as I'm not sure I'm happy with it. We'll see.

There may be some inconsistencies when it comes to names and/or places, since I tend to mix up the original PSX and PSP versions from playing both to death. So basically, if I liked the usage in the PSP version better, I included it, such as referring to Northern Sky soldiers as well as Hokuten.

If you noticed something is completely out of place, PLEASE let me know so I can fix it, preferably before its inclusion screws with later chapters. Reviews and inquiries welcome, as well as constructive criticism. It's been awhile since I've put words to paper, so I'm a little out of practice.


	2. The Knight Blades

**Chapter Two: The Knight Blades**

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The buzzing, keening whine was easily audible throughout the pass. Ramza nodded to the archer next to him, maintaining his cover as he raised the reed to his lips. Using the grass whistles as signaling tools had been Ramza's idea, of course, and one his squad had instantly adopted. The buzzing from his end told the other half of the team that they were in position. It wouldn't be long now.

Ramza sat back, adjusting his sword so it sat loosely in the scabbard. He'd been a Knight Blade for several months, and had been leader of his unit for almost as long. He still missed Igros, and more importantly Alma, every day, but he was content. Glancing through the brush, he could just make out where the others were concealed. The Knight Blades were trained to handle any situation, and as such were composed of a variety of different soldiers. Ramza had been spending almost all of his time working alongside some of the Nanten knights, though he often sought training with the lancers when he could. The rest of his team was composed of several skilled archers, a priestess, and his second in command. Each of them had dressed for the mission, dark green tunics above hard leather armor. Ramza was more accustomed to heavy plate and chain mail, but he was actually relieved to be waiting in the afternoon sun in something lighter.

Pulling off his gloves, the Beoulve took a long drag from a pouch of water, before passing it to his men. As he closed it up, he heard the second signal from the other side. It was time. Ramza quickly pulled his leather gloves back on, before turning to look down the overhang. The Blades held the high ground, and it looked like the men below hadn't expected an ambush.

"Four men at arms, two mages. Take the mages first, quickly, and try to funnel them. Only two in armor, I'll take care of those."

The men nodded and strung their bows, eyes focused above the dark paint used to keep the glare from the sun down. Ramza moved, drawing his sword silently, and watched the enemy approach from cover. Reed whistle between his lips, he waited, counting down the seconds. Taking a deep breath to give the final signal, he cursed aloud, as he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

Ramza dropped the blade of grass and leapt to his feet, as the other half of the squad attacked early. His archers popped up, firing even as Ramza vaulted from cover to the ground below. He landed with a roll, coming up even as his Lieutenant was crashing his sword down on the first unsuspecting brigand.

Then he was moving, the sound of arrows impacting flesh drowned out a moment later by cries of alarm and pain. Ramza carried no shield, knowing it would do little more than be cumbersome in the close quarters of this part of the pass. The thieves were trying to regroup, beset by a rain of arrows and the two swordsmen in their midst.

Ramza moved fast and purposefully, right at the two armored men at the front. They rose to meet him, confident of their skills and armor advantage. They were doomed, and didn't know it. An opening slash aimed at Ramza's throat was easily avoided, his lighter blade flashing up to score a cut on the man's side. A neat roll to the side avoided his partner, which turned into a well placed kick to the unprotected part behind the man's knee.

As the first Nanten deserter fell, the second shouted and charged. Ramza met his downward slash with his blade, taking the full impact in the shoulders. The man was larger, and stronger, but Ramza was much faster. As soon as the blades bounced off of each other with a sharp ring of steel, he was rotating his grip. He thrust the sword into the man's side with perfect accuracy, slipping past the armor to deliver a swift killing blow.

He spun as the other knight rose, leaping back from the wicked upward swing that followed. The tip of the man's blade sliced through his tunic and armor, sharp pain announcing the shallow gash in its wake. Grimacing, Ramza countered. Each swing of his blade pushed the armored man back, but he couldn't get past his guard. The deserter caught Ramza's blade along his shield, deflecting it to open an attack.

Instead, he was met with a rough shoulder tackle. Both men went to the ground, rolling to try and get the upper hand. Ramza, in his lighter armor, had mobility that did him little good this close, especially when the knight ended up on top. The man pinned his arm with a metal plated knee, and discarded his sword in favor of gauntlets. Tight fingers wrapped around Ramza's throat, squeezing as he scrabbled for purchase.

It was only a moment, however, until an arrow met with the man's side, the impact jarring him and freeing Ramza's sword arm. He turned the blade and drove it upward, the point sinking easily into the gap at the knight's throat. Hot crimson splashed down, as Ramza threw him aside and bounded up.

The last alive, wounded by an archer but still standing, lunged at him. Ramza parried the blow easily, and jammed his forehead into the man's nose, shattering it even as a sword entered the man's back. The deserter stood for but a moment, the light leaving his eyes, before he fell to the ground in a heap, the Blade's Lieutenant yanking his blade free. Wiping warm blood from his face, Ramza surveyed the pass, before turning to his Lieutenant.

"Izlude, the point of a signal is so that we attack _together_."

"I know," The young man said with a sharp laugh. "But one of them was looking up toward your position, and I didn't want to risk losing the element of surprise."

Ramza hesitated, before nodding. He allowed Izlude some freedom in their missions because his judgement was generally sound. The young noble was a fair swordsman, and had been Ramza's friend since he first came to Bethla, the two having met the night he had stolen inside. Izlude was with the Blades to be knighted, which he already had, in preparation for conscription into the Shrine Knights, as his father and sister had before him.

It was a common practice for the church to lease their people to the Northern or Southern Sky to be trained before returning to their respective Holy posts. St. Kanoe and the Bethla were two common places to find them. Ramza wondered how much longer Izlude would be at his side, and wasn't looking forward to when he was no longer there.

"Take anything we need," He began, addressing the rest of the Blades who had come down. "And we'll report this to the reserves in Bervenia."

"Ramza, you're bleeding." Izlude noticed, calling their healer over.

At her urging, and with a little blush from both of them, Ramza removed his tunic and armor and sat in the cool grass. As the priestess worked, her spells encouraging his body to knit together the damage, Izlude cleaned his blade.

"You know," The dark haired knight began. "My sister's in the Free City. Do we have time to stay for a night?"

"I don't see why not." Ramza replied, wincing as his body stitched itself up. "We're not due back for a week. Plenty of time."

Izlude nodded somberly, but his smile gave it away. He was still very much a boy, even with all the killing and combat, especially when it came to his sister, Meliadoul. Izlude spoke of her often, always in reverence. She was a Divine Knight, what he always aspired to be, and it obvious to anyone around him that they were close. Ramza was always uncomfortable speaking about family with him. Izlude, as with all the Blades, was unaware of Ramza's heritage. He believed Ramza to be the only child of lesser nobility. Speaking of family hurt, and Ramza stared off over the bloody scene, thinking of Alma.

"There, all finished." The healer said lightly, her cheeks still rosy as she handed him his tunic.

Ramza stood, tugging it on and abandoning his damaged leather armor. He had more clothes and armor back with their mounts, and it was unlikely he'd need it before then. Cleaning and sheathing his own blade, Ramza gathered his Blades, and set out for Bervenia.

* * *

Meliadoul tapped her thumb idly on the hilt of her sword, gazing through the crowd. Izlude had sent word to meet in the common district, as he had to report his mission there. Typical of him, to drag her all the way across town, and then be late. She was annoyed at her brother, which was uncommon, and even surprised her. Of course, it wasn't Izlude that had set her on edge, it was just a more convenient thing to be bothered by.

What really was on her mind was the silence. She'd been in Bervenia for almost two weeks with no word. The Shrine Knights were sending their people all over Ivalice, and her father had been busy for some time, but nobody saw fit to fill her in. She was, quite honestly, offended. It was as though she'd been sent to the Free City and forgotten about. Every inquiry she sent back to Vormav came back with the same instructions.

_Stay in Bervenia. Be alert. We'll send for you if needed._

Meliadoul sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. The Templars were up to something, but she wasn't privy to it. It irked her greatly. Letting her hand fall, she saw Izlude a moment before he noticed her, and his face lit up. The knight smiled warmly, all annoyance forgotten. How could she have been upset with him in the first place?

"Mel!" He practically shouted, pulling his older sibling into a hug before she could protest.

After a moment, she relented, laughing, and embraced him as well. Stepping back, she surveyed the boy. He looked a bit of a mess. A few shallow scrapes on bare arms, a small cut on his neck, and it looked like he hadn't bathed in days. She frowned thoughtfully at the blood on his green tunic, but it wasn't his.

"Oh, sorry." He said sheepishly. "We haven't found somewhere to bed down for the night."

_We?_

Izlude saw her expression, and motioned to the young man next to him. Meliadoul hadn't noticed him before, but knew immediately who it was. Izlude had spoken often of his friend and Captain in the Blades, and always with praise. Meliadoul nodded to the man as he approached, offering her hand.

He was slim and muscled, and wore a deep green tunic with no insignia. You wouldn't know he was a Nanten knight by looking at him, and it made Meliadoul wonder what kind of mission they had been on. He was still young, by the look of his face, but his eyes were always wandering. At first she thought he may have been bored, but she realized that, no, he was simply assessing what was going on around them. He was observant, which was a trait she could appreciate.

"Ramza Ruglia," He said, his voice calm and light. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Likewise," She began, eyebrows furrowing. "Ruglia? I'm not familiar with that name."

"I'm afraid I'm not surprised, few have." The young man smiled, though it looked pained.

"Hmm. Well, I don't know many nobles in Gallione, so I'm sure that's why."

Izlude looked surprised, but Ramza did not. His face held nothing, but the fact he did not speak told her she had been right. His accent wasn't obvious, but he clearly had come from that region. Perhaps Igros.

"Huh, you never told me you lived in Gallione." Izlude said, frowning over at him.

"You never asked." Ramza shrugged nonchalantly.

"Well," Izlude began, clasping his hands together. "Where can we get something to eat around here?"

"I know a few places."

Meliadoul smiled, and motioned for the boys to follow her. She didn't know what to make of Ramza from Gallione, but there was something about him she couldn't quite place. He was around Izlude's age, but seemed much older in his manner. He was well spoken and humble, and his hand never strayed too far from his sword. If Izlude didn't think so highly of him, Meliadoul wouldn't have trusted him for an instant. He was, however, easy on the eyes.

Shaking _that_ thought out of her head, the Templar led them in search of food. As long as she'd been sitting in Bervenia, she'd seen just about everything the city had to offer.

* * *

Ramza found he didn't mind the company of Meliadoul Tingel. She'd quickly insisted not to be called Lady Tingel, and had actually made pleasant meal conversation. Eventually she removed the hood of her Templar robes, revealing hair the same shade as Izlude's but much longer. He was struck by the woman's natural features, as few female knights were very attractive. Instead of focusing on that, he paid attention to their conversation. Ramza almost smiled as Izlude and Meliadoul verbally jousted with each other, but each time he was reminded of his own long lost sister, and that smile never quite came. After they had eaten, the conversation turned a bit more somber.

"Why are you still in Bervenia?" Izlude asked casually, leaning back in his chair.

"I actually haven't the slightest clue." Meliadoul sighed, absently playing with her hair. "Father sent me here to keep an eye on the local Glabados church, but there's nothing to it. It feels like they're getting rid of me."

"That's ridiculous! There must be something they need here, if father kept you here this long."

"Perhaps."

"There's talk of hostilities between Larg and Goltana." Ramza offered, shrugging. "They might have you here as a peacekeeper, of sorts, if anything should get out of hand with the locals."

Meliadoul barked out a laugh at this, a rueful smile touching her lips.

"Sending a Divine Knight to play at peace keeping? Ramza, I don't offer the kind of peace they want, I'm a trained Templar."

"Perhaps that's what is being anticipated. An uprising, where the church has to intervene?"

"Here, though? This city was untouched by even the Fifty Year War. What could possibly happen?"

At this Ramza shrugged, scanning the tavern. He noticed the way the woman kept touching something within her robes, and couldn't help wondering what it was. He wasn't about to pry, but whatever it was she kept worrying seemed to give her some comfort.

"Well, we have to set out in the morning I'm afraid. Otherwise I would have loved to stay here a few days."

As he spoke, Izlude glanced at Ramza, surely hoping his Captain would decide they were able to stay longer. Ramza debated that for but a moment, but decided against it. He wouldn't have minded either, but they needed to make sure they made it back to Bethla in time.

"Hmm," Izlude said, letting it drop. "I think I'll go work out our accommodations for the evening."

Izlude slipped up from the table, making his way over to the owner of the tavern and inn. Ramza watched him go, before turning back to see Meliadoul staring at him. He nodded silently, before nursing his drink and idly looking off across the room.

"Ramza."

"Yes?"

"My brother… trusts you. He admires you, and he's told me of you often. We had few friends growing up, with our… family and such."

"He's a good knight, and a good man."

"I know. I just want _you_ to know that if you endanger him in any way, it will be me you have to answer to."

For a long time, Ramza simply stared at her. Of course he could not guarantee Izlude's safety, they were soldiers. There was no way to explain that to Meliadoul, and naturally she already knew it, but he understood her sentiment. He was touched by it.

"As long as I'm by his side, Lady Tingel, I will do everything in my power to ensure he is safe."

A small smile lit up her face, and she accepted that answer with a shallow nod, before Izlude returned.

"Okay, we're all set up for the night." He said, grinning and turning to his sister. "I'll make sure to find you in the morning, to say goodbye."

They said their goodnights, and waited until Meliadoul had left before the two knights went upstairs to the rooms. Izlude glanced over at him several times on the way up, before finally stopping outside of his own room.

"What did you think of her?"

"Your sister?" Ramza asked, already knowing what he would say. "She's very well-spoken, and seems nice."

"Somehow I knew you'd say that." Izlude said, smiling. "But Ramza, Captain or not, if I see you look at her like that again, I _might_ have to kill you."

Izlude was still smiling as if joking when he went into his room, leaving Ramza to stand outside and wonder.

_Was I looking at her?_


	3. Forgotten Friend

**Chapter Three: Forgotten Friend**

* * *

There was precious little for the Blades to do. With the lack of orders upon returning to Bethla, Ramza waited only a day before issuing a stand down order to his squad. They would remain close to the Garrison, to be called in should the need arrive. In this time of instability and unrest that could mean the next day, or weeks later.

Ramza and Izlude, as always, remained in the fort. Neither knight had family nearby, and felt they should be on hand in case a need for them arose, as it had on this particular day. Instead they spent their time together, training or simply relaxing outside of Bethla while waiting for something, _anything_, to happen.

The trip up to the Bethla Sluice had been Izlude's idea, since Ramza had never bothered to even visit the place. It didn't take long for his friend to convince him to take the hike, promising the best view for miles. As Ramza stood atop the sluice, next to the large dam that held back an incredibly quantity of water, he conceded that Izlude had been right. He could see for miles, in every direction.

"I can see why they consider the fort impenetrable." Izlude noted, dropping to a seat next to him.

"Easily defendable," Ramza agreed, indicating why with his hands. "Three faces of the Garrison are on open ground, the only covered way comes through here, which eliminates the use of siege units. Perfect location."

Ramza remained standing, soaking in the view and the cool breeze that drifted in from the east. His mind drifted back to home, and the view from his own stronghold, Igros. It certainly had nothing on this, but for some reason he had a sense of foreboding as he stared out across the land below him. Deep down, he knew that something terrible would someday happen here, though he dismissed it immediately.

"This at least routs the boredom. You'd think there would be _something_ those stuffy Nanten Generals could have us do." Izlude sighed, absently tugging blades of grass out of the earth and letting them fall.

"Perhaps, young Blade, if you weren't so bloody hard to track down."

Ramza recognized the gruff, light-hearted tone immediately, and turned. A shallow bow was given to the general, as Ramza let a familiar smile touch his normally cool features.

"Lord Orlandu," He said, nudging Izlude with his foot. "It's been awhile."

Izlude jumped to his feet, eyes wide, only long enough to drop once more to kneel, fist thrust into the grass. Ramza realized that his friend hadn't actually met the Thunder God, and certainly wasn't on speaking terms with him.

"Lord Count, sir, I apologize for my words. I did not… I mean… you…" Izlude stuttered, clearly panicking in the presence of the older knight.

"Stand up, my boy, I'm no king." Cid said with a laugh, before focusing back on Ramza. "That it is has. I hear you've been doing quite well for yourself here."

"I have, thank you." Ramza said with a shallow nod.

"Well, as it was, and for Ajora's sake please stand Izlude, I came here with just what you were asking for."

"You have something for us?" Ramza asked, walking down the grassy slope toward the old codger.

"Indeed. I would have preferred _not_ to haul these old bones up here to tell you, but it is important and I would trust no aide with the message."

"Terribly sorry for the inconvenience sir, it won't happen again." Izlude assured him, moving to stand next to Ramza.

Orlandu shrugged him off, addressing both boys directly as he glance back at the fort to be sure he wasn't followed.

"I received a report that I cannot give you any details about, but I believe it involves a plot against Duke Goltana. I would like you knights, and you alone, to look into it."

"Yes sir, what would you have us do?"

"Ramza, you've been to the Orbonne Monastery, have you not?"

"It was a long time ago, but I know where it is, yes."

"Very well. You and Izlude are to set out immediately. I want you to keep an eye on it, and report back to me with what you find. Hopefully it is nothing, but I prefer to be prepared for the worst. You are to tell no one of this mission. Understood?"

"Of course sir." Ramza replied, nodding.

Without another word, Cid set off back to the fort, leaving the two Blades to prepare.

"You didn't tell me you knew the Thunder God!"

"He fought alongside my father, in the war."

"Orlandu is the most respected knight in all of Ivalice! They say the only man his equal during the fifty year war was Balbanes Beoulve, of Gallione."

Ramze felt a rush of pride at his friend's words, even though the boy was unaware of the praise he set on his father. Izlude was simply excited at being given a special mission by Cid. Ramza, however, was reserved. If Orlandu was nervous about sending them off like this, something could be very wrong indeed.

"Come on. Cid said we have to leave immediately, which means now."

* * *

Orbonne Monastery was an ancient place of worship, supposedly built during the time of Ajore and the Zodiac Braves, generations ago. Outwardly it appeared as old, thought from Ramza's recollection the building was very well maintained. He could not recall the name of the curator, as his visit to the Monastery had been years before, when Alma had lived there to hear the teachings of Glabados.

It looked much the same as it did then, from his position in the trees. He and Izlude had closed up camp that morning before the rain began to fall, and had stood their silent vigil for most of the day. There was no activity until the sun, hidden by storm clouds, was surely high overhead.

Four knights arrived, fully armed and armored, all female. The Priest, Simon, he now remembered, greeted them somberly before adjourning to the monastery, leaving the guards outside. The female Hokuten stood anxiously, their gaze constantly surveying the surrounding area.

"Escort, do you think?" Izlude asked tentatively from concealment near him, glancing over.

"Perhaps. They could be guarding a member of nobility on their trek back to the Imperial Capital. That would make sense."

Izlude nodded his agreement, and fell silent once more. Adjusting his breastplate, Ramza, settled more comfortably into the wet grass. The constant rain, though light, was an annoyance. If he and Izlude hadn't set off so quickly, he could have packed some of their foul weather gear. Sloshing around in his greaves was hardly comfortable.

The young man let his thoughts drift, landing nowhere in particular, but always gravitating around Orlandu and the concern he had laid bare. He had seemed certain something was going to happen here, but so far it seemed nothing more than a simple protection duty, which was common to those leaving Orbonne behind them.

"Ramza… what the hell?" Izlude said, breaking him from his reverie after his rough whispers had been ignored. "Look."

Glancing through the brush, Ramza saw what had set his friend on edge, and a look of concern crossed his brow.

"Nanten soldiers, here?" He asked, as a wounded knight stumbled into the monastery to report to her commander.

"I didn't hear about any extraction at Orbonne, did you?" Izlude asked quietly, his eyes wide.

"Nothing." Ramza shook his head. "And if anything, that's work for the Blades. We would know before anyone."

As they discussed this, the knight's commander exploded out of the massive oak doors. Ramza could hear little of what they said, though he picked Goltana's name out of the argument. Then, the battle began. Izlude immediately jumped to his feet, no longer caring for stealth.

"Izlude, get down!" Ramza ordered, his eyes on the skirmish.

"But… those knights…"

"We weren't told to interfere. We aren't a part of that mission."

Izlude huffed but obeyed, slipping back down slowly. Ramza noticed right away that the female in charge of the escort was a Holy Knight, her sword skill cutting down a Nanten archer in moments. Her skill with a blade was excellent, and Ramza suspected they were all St. Kanoe knights, from the Royal Capital Lesalia.

Despite their formidable combat abilities, Ramza realized, they weren't going to win. The escort was outnumbered almost two to one, and one of the women staggered and fell. They were fighting valiantly to protect their charge, but their numbers were too few to make a difference.

Their commander, the Holy Knight, stood her ground valiantly. The woman fought with all of her strength, even as her remaining knight fell from her injuries, and was forced back to the large monastery doors before Ramza realized something wasn't right.

"Ramza, do you see that?" Izlude noted, catching on just as he himself did. "Those uniforms… they aren't right. I don't think those are our soldiers!"

Before Izlude could finish, Ramza was on his feet, sprinting toward the massive monastery. He'd noticed as well that the attacking soldiers wore conflicting uniforms, something that only an actual soldier of the Southern Sky would have picked up on. They weren't Nanten at all, but imposters.

Ramza came at the men from behind, aware of Izlude's footfalls right behind him, and drew his blade as their chemist turned toward their approach. Using his momentum, he opened the man up with a vicious slash, before leaving him to bleed out in the rain.

The chemists cry alerted the other men, who immediately abandoned the injured knights to confront this greater threat. An arrow was loosed in his direction, missing narrowly as Ramza drove his shoulder head on into the knight who led the attack. The man stumbled and fell, his sword clattering away even as Ramza fell atop him, driving his own finely honed blade clean through the man's chest.

Rolling to his feet, he saw Izlude coming down from an impressive leap, cleaving the arm off of the remaining archer in a spray of scarlet. The young man finished the sniper off, a quick thrust felling the surprised foe in an instant. Their attack had been fast and brutal, the fight over as quickly as it had begun.

Movement caught his attention, and Ramza turned to look toward the left of the monastery. What he saw made him drop his blade, shock and confusion rendering him immobile. A chocobo cantered lazily from the back of the structure, a noble woman he didn't know draped unconscious over its back. In front of her sat one person he didn't believe he would ever see again, dressed in the uniform of a Nanten Blackram Knight.

"Delita… you're alive…" He said, his voice but a whisper.

His oldest friend stopped for a moment, dark eyes focusing on Ramza's, before he nodded and urged the mount forward. Ramza stood stock still, his mouth agape, for several long seconds after the man disappeared into the trees.

"Ramza? Who was that?" Izlude asked, sheathing his blade and looking concerned.

Ramza's mind was racing, trying to sort out everything that had just happened. The men they'd slain, they were definitely not troops from the Nanten army, of that he was certain. But Delita wore the uniform of a Blackram, and it was unlikely he had stolen it. Somehow… he'd been in the Southern Sky all this time, and Ramza had been unaware. It didn't make _sense_.

"Izlude," He said frantically, grabbing his friend by the arm as he saw the Holy Knight drag herself inside. "Help me get these women inside, quickly."

Izlude nodded, still confused, and helped him carry the injured knights into the monastery. Their commander lay against a wall, sword leveled at him, Simon at her side. Once Ramza had both women, one of them unconscious, safely out of the rain, he ordered Izlude to patch them up with what little they had brought with them, before approaching the Holy Knight.

"Who was that woman? The noble." He asked quickly, crouching just out of range of her blade.

He wasn't surprised when the woman spit at him, he'd expected something like that. Sighing, Ramza dropped to a knee, bracing himself with an arm. He had to get her talking, now, or it might be too late. He glanced at Simon for one moment, noting that the Priest didn't look either frightened or angry.

"You're St. Kanoe Knights, are you not? In service to the Northern Sky? What is your name?"

"I'll tell you nothing. Kill me and be done with it, and contemplate your lot in life before the Hokuten fall upon you."

"We are not enemies my lady, and those men outside were _not_ Nanten soldiers." Ramza said quietly, his eyes soulful.

"Funny you should say that when they wore the crest of the Black Lion, as you do." She replied scornfully, coughing and holding shut the wound in her side.

Ramza glanced back at Izlude, who was staring over at him as he tended to the other women's wounds the best he could. There was no other way to get the woman to talk, far as he could see. He would simply have to tell her the truth.

"I… my name is Ramza Beoulve, third born son of Balbanes. I am no enemy to you, or your charge."

The woman's eyes widened, and Ramza heard his friend's small sound of surprise from behind him. After a moment the Holy Knight narrowed her gaze, glaring at him.

"Liar. Ramza Beoulve hasn't been seen since the Corpse Brigade was snuffed out at Fort Ziekdon. He died there, they say."

"No, Lady Oaks, he is telling the truth. I would recognize that boy in an instant." Simon finally spoke up, nodding down to the knight. "His sister was one of my pupils, some years ago."

The woman regarded him silently for but a moment, before she lowered her sword and slumped against the wall. Ramza sidled next to her, checking her wound before calling Izlude to him.

"My name is Agrias Oaks, I apologize for misjudging you."

"Not necessary, but I _must_ know who the woman was."

Agrias exchanged a quick glance with the priest, before looking back at Ramza. There was a darkness in her eyes as she hesitated, disheveled blonde hair falling out of the long braid down her back.

"We were ordered to escort Princess Ovelia to Igros by Duke Larg… we failed, clearly."

Ramza was taken aback, and it showed. He stared at Agrias for a long moment, glanced at Simon, and looked back at his friend as he wrapped applied a healing potion to one of the wounded knights.

_The Princess? What would Delita, or more importantly, Goltana, want with her? Why would they disguise men as Nanten soldiers, only to actually kidnap her? It makes no sense._

"If Delita is… if he's really with the Blackram Knights, he's going where we're going." Ramza said, his gaze locked on Izlude.

"That makes sense. Bethla would be the safest place in all of Ivalice, the only fort where Larg couldn't easily send troops after her."

Ramza stood, and made his way to the wounded knights. One still remained asleep, her injuries less severe, and the other was tending to her. Kneeling next to the women to retrieve their medical supplies, Ramza rested a hand on the unconscious knight's head.

"Your names?" He asked solemnly.

"I'm Lavian," The knight replied, frowning down at her friend. "This is Alicia."

"I'm sorry for all of this, but can you still ride?"

The woman nodded with conviction, and Ramza left her. He took the healing salves to Simon and Agrias, handing them to the priest before tugging Izlude away to let her remove her breastplate and tunic.

"When you're ready, we'll set out. We can catch him before he reaches the Garrison, if we're lucky."

"You're of the Southern Sky, why would you interfere with your own mission?"

"Something isn't right. Why would Goltana order the Princess kidnapped, and then frame the Nanten anyway? Nothing is gained from that, except igniting a fierce war. I have to find out why…"

_I have to find out why Delita is involved, and how he is still alive. After all this time, he's been right under my nose, and I had no idea._

"Ramza." The Holy Knight addressed him, forcing the young Blade to glance back at her.

"Thank you, for saving us."

Ramza simply nodded, and he and Izlude excused themselves to the rear entrance to the monastery, to find Delita's trail as Agrias undressed to treat her wounds.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'm trying not to make a habit of these little afterwords, but I tend to enjoy the ramble, and I have some things I'd like to address. Thanks to those who gave me their opinions, even if it was only a sentence saying they liked where this was going. I'm seriously considering a rewrite of some of chapter one, as it seems to... drag. I'm thinking of taking out the first two parts with Ramza alone, and jump right to Bethla, then add something else in I think I would work well. If anyone should disagree, don't hesitate to speak up. This Chapter was difficult for me, because I didn't know exactly _how_ I wanted to play it out. In the end I feel I'm rather happy with it. It sticks to the story, with some minor editing to dialogue and the removal of Gafgarion. Didn't see a reason for him in it, without Ramza on his team, and it felt boring to have that lame old Dark Knight turned Time Mage. (When I fought him he was, at least :P)

**Gaming Ikari:** I was actually happy to see you'd read this. I had actually been reading _your_ FFT Fic when I was working on this, and I was pretty impressed. When I get time I'll slide on over and give you my opinions on it. Well, now you know what happened in the Falls. I had almost decided not to have Ramza present for the kidnapping, but I started thinking about how Delita's logic in the game didn't make a whole lot of sense. Sure Goltana could turn her over, but with the right push, which he gets later, he could easily have accepted the Princess in the Southern Sky and declared war on the Hokuten. He does anyway, so why not sooner? That was why I included Ramza, to skip all the boring 'Ramza and Agrias run all over Ivalice chasing Gafgarion' stuff. Granted this, for now, takes Mustadio out of the picture, but I wasn't a huge fan of his anyway.

**dark drow:** Despite knowing where drow originated from, it always reminds me of Defense of the Ancients. Thanks for the long winded review. One of the things I disliked most about the game was that when you finally got Meliadoul, she was kind of a side note. Cid and Ramza can almost two-man any fight, and her skills aren't useful as they are single target. However I always had a soft spot for her, and thought she had one of the coolest sprites in the game. Thus, she's usually a main player in all my FFT related things. Izlude was also someone I felt was overlooked. You fought him once, and then he dies, and it's hard to feel any sympathy for him because you barely see him. Hell, you fight Miluda twice, and she was so lame it hurt. I wanted to really have him used in a story, since I've never seen it. This gave me the perfect chance to flesh out how I saw his character, and make him likeable, which I feel he would have been.

I'm going through the editing on Chapter Four now, and working on Seven. So yeah, I'll upload when I'm at least content with the next one.


	4. The Black Sheep

Chapter Four: The Black Sheep

* * *

They traveled as fast as they could, spending only long enough in Dorter to restock their supplies before setting out again. Alicia's wounds still prevented her from riding well, so she was mounted behind Lavian as they traveled. The two day journey had been a rush, as they tracked Delita's trail eastward. A deep golden sun was nearing the horizon when Ramza came across the fallen chocobo, an arrow protruding from its neck.

"Ambush." He said flatly, following the tramped down grass toward the shouted voices ahead.

They dismounted quickly, Agrias more stiffly than the rest of them, and left Alicia to maintain their birds while they moved ahead on foot. Running through the tall grass toward the Zirekile Falls, Ramza broke through the underbrush in time to see what he had expected, but had not allowed himself to voice.

Delita stood atop a narrow rope bridge, blade drawn and head snapping back and forth to either side of the river. The Princess was at his side, looking distraught and frightened, as Hokuten Knights closed in from both sides of the bridge. Ramza took quick stock of the soldiers, before Ovelia noticed them.

"Agrias!"

"Princess!" The Holy Knight drew her blade, wincing, and ran forward, stuttering to a halt only a moment later.

"It seems we have company." One of the knights said, as his fellows advanced on the new arrivals. "Deal with them too. We want this to be clean and quick."

"What is the meaning of this?" Agrias asked, confusion etched on her features as she drew her blade defensively. "The Nothern Sky turns in on itself?"

Ramza slipped his own sword free, edging up the hill toward the bridge. A sidelong glance at Izlude and a nod of the head made his orders clear. The other Blade would help Agrias with the Hokuten just up the hill.

"If the Princess is kidnapped and killed by Goltana," Delita began, shielding Ovelia with his body. "They'll be rid of him _and_ the rival to the throne. I'm sure that's how Duke Larg wrote the scenario. No, I sense this is more Dycedarg's plan. Don't you agree Ramza?"

Ramza said nothing; He simply tightened his grip on his sword, eyes on Delita and the knights around them.

"Ramza," Agrias said quietly. "I can't do anything to help the Princess from here. I'll handle that these traitors… please… help her."

There was no time to respond, as the battle began without warning the instant the words left her lips. Izlude, Lavian, and Agrias drove up the slope toward the Hokuten, and Ramza veered toward the bridge.

Delita, it seemed, had learned a thing or two. He turned to the nearest knight and with a flash a line of holy light burst from the heavens, traveling straight through the man. He was propelled backward off of the bridge, landing silently in the grass. Ramza was already leaping as Delita began to turn, the other knight already on the bridge driving the point of his blade toward the Princess's exposed side.

Ramza landed deftly between them, as Ovelia let out a startled gasp, his sword knocking the Hokuten's thrust away with a sharp twang and a flash of reflected light. More soldiers began to push onto the bridge, forcing Ramza to drive the man back into them with a series of brutal slashes aimed at his midsection. Finally scoring a hit on the knight, he fell back to Ovelia's side, glancing back to see Delita casually throw another soldier off of the bridge.

"Delita, you're alive."

"Fancy meeting you here. Much has changed since we last saw each other, has it not?"

"Indeed." Ramza replied with a grunt, repelling a hasty attack from a knight, and delivering a kick that knocked him back into another on the bridge. "But this plot, are you a party to it?"

"Ha! Don't be foolish." Delita said, loosing another holy explosion on the advancing Hokuten. "I'm here to save the Princess, to free her from those exploiting her."

Ramza had no choice but to trust his word, for now, as the knights in front of him required his full attention. On the bridge there wasn't room for them to attack but one at a time, which made his job considerably easier. He could spare no attention to anything except the enemies in front of him, and the hand he used to be sure Ovelia was safely behind him.

The Princess trapped protectively between them, Ramza and Delita fought without mercy, cutting down or merely removing the knights from the bridge entirely. Ramza was forced to remain on the defensive, falling back on every tactic he'd learned when practicing one on one combat. The first knight to get within arm's reach was met with a series of slashes faster than he had anticipated, Ramza's speed surpassing his even bound by his plated arms. Within a moment the man stumbled, clutching his wounded left side, as the Blade cast him into the water below.

Ramza barely had time to blink before the next Hokuten soldier charged him, slamming a shield into his armored chest hard enough to slide him back into Ovelia. Ramza dug his feet into the mossy planks, fearing he might knock the Princess clear off of the bridge. Two hands met with the man's back, as Ovelia quite literally caught him before he stumbled and fell. Planting a steel clad toe in a gap in the bridge, Ramza lunged forward, grasping the knight's shield and twisting it ruthlessly up and away.

The move surprised his foe, as his arm was twisted in such an angle that he almost lost his footing, falling against the rope support next to him. Ramza stepped into the man's guard, a horizontal swing of his sword meeting with a sharp twang against the Hokuten blade. From there the Blade shift his grip, driving his pommel ahead into the man's nose. The Hokuten stumbled, attempting to regain his stance even as powerful two handed thrust punched through his armor and ribs, the sensation of sliced flesh and rended bone transferring into Ramza's hands. The man fell quietly, wheezing as his last traitorous breaths left him. Seeing their allies fall so quickly, the two remaining Hokuten made a hasty retreat.

Finally he could let down his guard. Turning to be certain the Princess was unharmed, he shifted his attention to the others. They looked a little worse for wear. Izlude was favoring one leg, and Lavian held her left arm, covered in blood, close to her chest. After a long moment, Ramza sheathed his blade, addressing Izlude.

"Is everyone okay?"

He was answered with a nod while slowly Izlude and Agrias made their way up to the bridge, as Lavian went to fetch their mounts and her friend. Sheathing his own sword, Delita turned to face Ramza, a calm thoughtfulness entering his features. Upon reaching them, Agrias shoved Delita aside, urging the Princess to sit as she checked to be sure she was not wounded.

"Her Majesty should remain with me. She would be in no better hands." He said calmly.

"What are playing at Delita? What you said rings true, chop off Goltana and the Princess's head, and you eliminate both rivals for power to Larg's taking of the regent seat. However, their plan has failed."

"Think, Ramza." He said, sighing. "We cannot take her with us to Goltana. He would simply offer her up to the crown to spare his own life. So do we send her into the waiting arms of Duke Larg? He would not attempt such a plot without the consent of the Queen. The crown cannot be trust."

"What would you do that _we_ cannot?" Agrias asked scathingly.

"We, all of us, are trapped between two lions. It would be easier for one man to keep her safe than an army, at this point."

"I disagree." Ramza said, staring across the water. "It is no coincidence that Izlude and I stumbled across you."

"Do explain."

"The Count suspected something was going to happen, though if he expected _this_ I cannot say. He sent us to Orbonne, to investigate."

"Then, perhaps…" Delita pondered that, a gauntlet obscuring his lips as he thought.

"Look at the people before you, Delita. Agrias of the Northern Sky, a respected St. Kanoe Knight." Ramza explained, opening his arms to indicate himself. "I am a Beoulve, and a Knight Blade on mission for the Count. Together with the Princess backing our words, how can Goltana possibly ignore us?"

"You would go to war with the Northern Sky? Turn against your own blood?" Delita's eyebrow raised with the question, and Ramza swore he saw the trace of a smile.

"My brothers turned against us long ago, did they not?" Ramza replied coldly, his gaze falling. "I won't allow the Princess to be another martyr for their cause. I won't allow her… to be another Teta."

A dark cloud passed over the Holy Knight's face, as Delita regarded him silently. The moment passed quickly, however, and he turned, staring down at the fast moving river.

"Ramza," He began slowly. "I believe your plan to be sound. I have matters that require my attention to be sure everything goes correctly. I shall leave the Princess in your care for but awhile longer, while you and Izlude escort her to Bethla, where she will be safe."

"And what of us?" Agrias cut in, her eyes cool.

"You're Her Majesty's guards, are you not?" Delita shot back with a wry smirk. "So guard her."

Agrias nodded slowly, before fixing her gaze on Ovelia and letting a ghost of a smile slide onto her features.

"As you wish." Ramza said, reaching out to take his hand. "I… did not think I would ever see you again. I'm glad I have, and only wish it had been under different circumstances."

"As do I, my friend." Delita said with a sharp laugh, turning to walk to the edge of the bridge before pausing. "It was Teta. She saved me, watched over me then, as I pray she does now…"

"Sir Delita!" Ovelia leapt to her feet, drawing the man's gaze. "Thank you…"

"I hope to see you in Bethla when I return, Ramza."

With that the Blackram Knight strode away to places unknown, and a long silence followed. Finally Ramza turned back to the others, resting his hand on his sword.

"It's getting dark." He said plainly. "I'd like to put a little distance between us and the battle here before setting up camp, in case the Northern Sky looks to fall upon us before dawn."

The others nodded their assent, before gathering what equipment they could from the fallen Hokuten, and setting out down the Zirekile River.


	5. Misgivings

**Chapter Five: Misgivings**

* * *

Meliadoul decided immediately that she didn't trust this Delita, even having only just met him. Ironically enough the woman had been relieved of her position in Bervenia the same day that her brother left the city, and was recalled to Murond. When she arrived she found the Shrine Knights busier than she could remember, though she was still no closer to knowing what was truly going on as she had been half a world away.

As she stood in the dimly lit room in the back of the Zaland Church, Meliadoul's gaze swept over the young knight once more. He was dressed as a Nanten soldier, and the damage to his armor coupled with the small cut on his face spoke of a battle recently fought, as the man bowed deeply in front of Vormav and the other Templars.

It irked Mel that her that the other Shrine Knights, her father especially, placed so much trust in this man. Delita had approached the Templars some time before, offering them his services as a spy to both the Northern and Southern Sky, which he had infiltrated easily. Having knowledge of the inner workings of both kingdoms was a great asset, but couldn't her superiors see that if this Delita had no qualms betraying _both_ ruling families in Ivalice, what was stopping him betraying the Church to further his own ends? They'd even gone so far as to begin training him as a Holy Knight, as compensation for his 'sacrifice' for God's Church.

She had tried to explain this once to her father, who simply told her to stop meddling in the affairs of others. Father had never before told her to mind her own business, and once upon a time he had praised her for being inquisitive. It was the mark of a good Templar, Vormav had claimed.

So now, as Meliadoul stood next to her father and two other knights, she seethed silently. Delita stood, addressing Vormav directly as though he'd been in the service of the Church for all of his life, and wasn't a simple spy looking to make some coin.

"The Princess was rescued by, ironically enough, your son."

"Izlude was at Orbonne?" The words left the woman's lips before she could halt them, and the smug knight replied with a simple nod.

A sidelong glance from her father silenced her, a gesture that he would not have made in the past. Whatever this business was with the Royal Family, it had changed Vormav drastically, and Mel simply couldn't understand why.

"He and Ramza Beoulve, to be precise. They are escorting Ovelia to the Southern Sky as we speak."

"So," Vormav began slowly. "Things did not proceed as planned, but the end result will be the same."

"I believe so. I will be leaving immediately, to force Goltana's hand. With the treachery of Duke Larg exposed by Ramza and Count Orlandu, he'll only need a little push to set his armies on Lesalia. I shall see to it."

"Excellent. I have already spoken with the Marquis and Cardinal Delacroix. They are with us, should we call upon them."

Meliadoul glanced over at her father. He hadn't mentioned meeting with the leaders of Limberry and Lionel. She could see him making the short trip to see the Cardinal, but when did he find time to travel all the way to Limberry Castle? Letting the thought go, she watched as Delita stood, clasping his hands in front of him.

"My contacts within the Northern Sky, now, have dried up. I will direct all my attention to pushing Goltana to war. No doubt when I expose my accomplice in his ranks, I'll be granted much more authority in that regard."

Vormav smiled, and it was not as Meliadoul had remembered it. There was something darker there, or so she imagined. She scrutinized her father more than ever now, since he had seemed to be acting strangely.

With a word of parting, Delita left, leaving the Shrine Knights to their plotting. Meliadoul looked on as her father and Rofel began laying out their pieces, though eventually they stared at her as though she should not be privy to the information they discussed. So, excusing herself, the Divine Knight left the church, to wander the streets of Zaland.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

* * *

A half moon was rising when they finally stopped to break out camp, several miles downstream, and Agrias struggled to remain alert. Ramza had led them along the winding Zirekile River, as opposed to taking the more direct route to Bethla. While she agreed with the idea, making it less likely they'd come across Northern Sky patrols, the ride had been unpleasant. Agrias would never admit it, but the furious pace they had set to the falls, coupled with her injuries at Orbonne, had taken its toll.

The woman practically fell from her mount, landing on heavy legs and quickly unsaddling the bird. The chocobo dropped where it stood, curling its head beneath a wing and falling fast asleep.

_I know the feeling, my feathered friend…_

Agrias turned to the Princess, only to find that Ramza had beaten her to helping the small woman down, a leather gloved hand holding Her Majesty's arm loosely as she climbed off the mount. Agrias scowled slightly, before wondering why that should bother her at all. Ramza was no common soldier, inappropriately laying his hands upon the Princess. In action if no longer in name, he was of noble stock. Looking back on the past few days she realized she'd met few men as thoughtful and sincere. Certainly none of nobility.

Accepting Ovelia's thanks with a small smile, the young Nanten turned, and almost tripped over Agrias. He sidestepped at the last minute, making an apologetic face.

"Pardon, Agrias, I didn't see you."

Agrias nodded politely, staring after the knight as he walked away.

_I was standing so close to him that if anything, it was my fault. Yet he apologizes as if he should have known and been more careful. He's so… strange._

She didn't realize how long she had been gazing at Ramza, brow furrowed, until a cleared throat caught her attention. She snapped back to see Lavian and Alicia staring at her, their heads cocked to the side.

"Agrias?" Lavian asked, the ghost of a smile touching her lips. "See something interesting."

_Damn it. I'm too tired to deal with this tonight._

"I was simply," Agrias began, sighing. "Wondering about him."

"Wondering what?" Alicia piped in, unbuckling some of the supplies from her mount.

"I'm not sure, precisely." The Holy Knight began, glancing back at the young Beoulve. "He's different than other soldiers. So…"

"Open?" Lavian supplied with a shrug.

"Not exactly." Agrias didn't know how to put her thoughts into words, and was ending up merely frustrated.

"It's his honor."

The voice startled all three women, who visibly jumped at being caught gossiping. From the trees behind them came Izlude, carrying an armful of dried wood. The young Blade stopped as he reached Agrias, before glancing over at his Captain.

"Ramza is… well, you'll see as time goes on, but he has his own honor. I didn't know of his nobility until he told you a couple days ago, but I don't believe it was ever based on that. If it's the right thing to do, he'll do it, regardless of the consequences for him. He simply… can't stand to do anything else."

Agrias stood next to the wood hauling knight, staring over at Ramza and the Princess. Something he had said made the woman laugh, a hand covering her mouth for her moment. The Blade was right, and Agrias could see now that's what she'd been trying to put her finger on the entire time. It wasn't smart, defying his orders as he had back at Orbonne, but in hindsight it had been the _right _thing to do.

"So, yeah." Izlude concluded, dumping some of the logs into Lavian's arms. "Now if you ladies are done, we could sure use some help setting up camp."

"Of course." Agrias said, shaking her head.

She'd been distracted by the discussion, and her own weariness, that she had completely forgotten how late it was. They'd have perhaps five hours before the sun rose, and they had to move out again.

To be honest, there wasn't much 'camp' to set up. Izlude got a fire going in the small gap they'd found in the woods, as Ramza set up their foul weather tarp for the Princess. The sky was clear, but Ovelia seemed to appreciate the sentiment, as did Agrias. After that it was a simple matter to situate their bedrolls, and pass out the food they had picked up in Dorter.

As they ate, conversation was casual. On the way to rescue the Princess, there had been no time for idle chat before they bed down, as they needed as much rest as possible for the strenuous pace they set. Now, however, Agrias was finally getting a feel for the two Blades.

"Mhm," Izlude replied, swallowing a hunk of cooked meat before answering Lavian's question about his home. "My father and sister are Templars, Shrine Knights for the Church. Once I'm finished with my service to the Nanten, I'm going to train as they did."

The boy spoke proudly, and Agrias smiled. She too had done something similar, though in Agrias' case she decided to return to Lesalia and the royal family after becoming a Holy Knight.

"What about you, Ramza?" The Princess asked softly, smiling over at him.

"Me?"

The young Beoulve seemed nervous, with all the eyes around the fire locked on him. He frowned thoughtfully, staring at the dancing flames for a long moment.

_He's lied about who he was for so long, he isn't sure just what to say._

"I… was a cadet at Gariland, before I was assigned with hunting down the Death Corps."

"Is that how you came to Fort Ziekden?" The Princess pressed, her fingers laced together. "With Delita?"

Ramza hesitated before nodding, tossing a small twig into the campfire. Agrias noticed now that he'd hardly eaten anything, divvying out the larger portions to the women and Izlude. It was as though he cared only about himself as an afterthought, when he was sure everyone else, even those he barely knew, was content.

"I grew up with Delita. He was… like a brother to me. We fought the Death Knights together, and then… at Ziekden." The young knight stopped, again, sucking in a shallow breath. "My brothers chose the Beoulve name over the life of Delita's sister, sacrificing her to save face. To show the Death Corps they could not be threatened."

Silence reigned after that, as each member of the party to Bethla took their thoughts inward. Agrias stared at the young man across the fire, gathering her own.

_I can understand now, why he would choose to leave the Hokuten. In the blink of an eye he believed he lost everyone close to him; His childhood friends to the explosion, and his blood to their own treachery._

Agrias also knew why Zalbag Beoulve acted as he did, though she approved of it no more than Ramza. Most nobility thought the same way, behaved in the same manner. She had spent her time after the Fifty Year War trying to understand how some of the upper class could be so cold, and had never come close to discovering the secret.

To her right, the sound of Ovelia blowing loudly snapped Agrias out of her reverie, and she glanced over at the girl. The Princess held a long blade of grass to her lips, forcing air across it for a moment before finally sighing in frustration.

"I can never get it right…"

A small laugh announced Izlude rising from his seat next to his Captain, and walking around the fire to the Princess. He dropped unceremoniously near her, before plucking his own reed from the ground.

"Hold it like this, Your Majesty." He explained, showing her what to do.

Ovelia's second attempt yielded a faint buzzing, which Agrias found not too easy on the ears. Ramza smiled slightly at the sound, and the Princess was beaming.

"I did it!" She exclaimed, her face brightening toward Izlude as he blew gently on his own reed whistle. "Who taught you?"

Izlude answered by glancing across the fire at his friend, nodding in Ramza's direction. The knight, in return, shifted uncomfortably at the attention.

"I had a friend with me in the monastery, she showed me how." The Princess spoke proudly, playing with the grass for a moment before letting it fall.

"That was Lady Alma, was it not?" Agrias asked, her eyes darting to Ramza as Ovelia nodded.

To say the look on the young noble's face was pained would be an understatement. The expression held for only a moment, before he caught and corrected it, but Agrias had noticed it all the same. Knowing little of the Beoulve family outside of their renown in Gallione, she could judge instantly that the two siblings had been very close.

"Let me try!" Lavian chimed in, plucking her own blade of grass.

_Wonderful, more incessant buzzing._

The result of her first attempt brought about the laughter of everyone else, Agrias included, as the female knight blew the grass clean out of her hand and into the fire.

As Izlude, still laughing, corrected her, he explained that Ramza had used it as a signal during missions. Agrias had to admit that was a good idea, as it wasn't something any enemy soldier would give pause to. It probably sounded like a loud insect, from a distance.

Surrounded by light laughter which often messed up further attempts to make the whistle work, Agrias watched Ramza surreptitiously from the corner of her eye. He didn't speak, or join in with the others as they played with the grass. The young knight simply looked on, a crooked smirk on his lips.

Finally, after the experiment with the whistles was over, everyone began to bed down. Ramza was getting something from the sleeping chocobos when Agrias approached him, remembering something she'd forgotten before. Now that she and her knights were, it seems, in Ramza's care, they had their share of duties. Before Agrias had run her own watch with Lavian and Alicia, not trusting completely in the two Nanten soldiers.

"Ramza," She asked as she approached, drawing his gaze. "What watch would you have us take?"

The man blinked at her for a moment, his amber eyes focusing. After a hesitation he stood, small pack in hand, and shrugged.

"Don't worry about it tonight. Izlude and I already worked something out. He's going to keep an eye out for an hour or so, and I'll be fine with just a short nap."

_He's not including us? Is it possible he doesn't trust us as I didn't him before?_

"No," Agrias said coolly, shaking her head. "It's our duty as well as yours to keep the Princess safe. We'll help."

"Agrias," He said quietly, glancing at the fire a short distance away. "You and your knights had a rough time of it, since Orbonne. Just get some rest tonight, recover your strength. Lavian and Alicia are nearly hysterical with exhaustion. You saw them with the reeds."

Agrias paused, closing her eyes to think. He was right, and she hadn't noticed. He had picked up on something that she, as their Captain, hadn't even taken into account. None of the women had slept much since their flight from the monastery, Agrias least of all, and it was affecting her judgement. Not to mention they were all still a little tender from battle and the rough trek down river.

"Yeah, we'll take care of it!"

Agrias' eyes snapped open, looking for the source of Izlude's voice. Was the Blade a ninja, appearing out of the darkness at every turn to confound her? Smirking, Ramza nodded upward, and Agrias let her gaze follow. Above her, perched on a thick branch, was Izlude, wrapped in a deep green wool blanket. If she hadn't been looking for him, she would have never seen the knight.

"Very well." She said finally. "But only for this eve."

"Of course. Sleep well Agrias." Ramza said with a nod, before leaving her.

The Holy Knight took his advice unwillingly, for as soon as her body settled onto her bedroll, she fell into blissful slumber.

* * *

Author's Note: The pace of the first few chapters is pretty heavy, I think, but that's mostly to allow me to get through the scenes such as the Waterfall and Orbonne. Everybody already knows what happened there, so I just put a quick spin on it. I feel it was needed, as Ramza joining the Nanten wouldn't have altered those events too drastically. There's going to be a few scenes that occured in the game, only with the new perspective of Ramza being present. As time goes on, you'll see the differences. Thanks for reading and reviewing, and I'm still working ahead of chapters posted, so I can keep up.

dark drow: I loved the wording in the PSP version of the game, but I really can't bring myself to try and incorporate it completely here. So you'll be seeing kind of a hodge-podge of lines between both games. I just want the dialogue to sound interesting, and not forced, and I'm content. As for creativity I have to say you'll only seeing small bits at first, before Ramza truly begins to leave the base canon behind and change things.

Liberius: As for the Mel/Ram pairing, you won't be seeing anything much until a good deal later. It is a key part of the story down the road, but until Meliadoul begins to play a direct role in Ramza's life, you won't see it. It'll be there though, eventually. As for it being sloppy, I agree on all counts. This story, aside from being written just for the fun of it, is being used to get me back into focus. I haven't seriously sat down and written in years, and my attention to detail and overall skill with it has faltered some. So it's not going to be polished or perfect, though as I get back into it the writing should step up some as I go. This is also pretty much just a first draft, you could say. No editing besides spell check is being done before putting it up, unless I read something that doesn't fit at all. So I just ask that you don't expect _too_ much, and hope you like it as a casual read for the 'what if this happened' factor.

Gaming Ikari: It's a sir, lulz. I swear, seriously, I'll get around to reviewing for you! I do most of my writing while working 3rd Shift, but have been so busy lately I've had little time to do more than check my reviews when I slide online. As time goes on you'll see how the story gradually moves away from the canon scenes. There will still be some, but they will be drastically altered (much more than Zirekile) by the differences in the characters. Plus, as it stands, very few of the characters you use in the game will be with Ramza as a result of the changes. Instead, expect to see some others from the game with him that never joined the party, and had little to do in game. So if you have any personal favorites that didn't get much screen time, throw them out there, I might be using them already or have overlooked them.


	6. Rungs on a Ladder

**Chapter Six: Rungs on a Ladder**

* * *

Standing on the south wall of the Garrison, Ramza relished the cool breeze through his hair as he let his gaze travel across the plains stretched out before him. Ovelia was safely under guard deep within the fort, and Duke Goltana had wisely allowed Agrias to continue to function as her protector, along with both of the other St. Kanoe knights. Ramza, however, was not permitted to speak with the Princess or any of them.

He believed he knew the reason for this. When he had arrived at the South Gate with three former Hokuten and the Royal Princess, the guards were floored. Within minutes of being admitted, one of Goltana's personal aides met them in the large palisade courtyard, escorting Ovelia and her guards to safety. Ramza and Izlude had remained until Orlandu arrived.

The Count had believed their story without question, and had thanked them sincerely for keeping the Princess safe. He then informed them that until the Duke arrived at Bethla to handle the situation, they were not to speak with Ovelia. Surely this was to make sure that there could be no cross-talk. The Nanten Lord wanted the truth, not matching stories that were false.

In that regard, Ramza had nothing to hide. He had spoken openly of everything that had happened, and had been left to wait until he was summoned. So for the past two days he simply kept himself busy, or retreated to the top of the Garrison to think.

He was so wrapped up in his own inner musings, this evening, that he did not hear the approaching footfalls until they were right next to him. The Blade glanced out of the corner of his eye before returning his gaze outward across Ivalice.

"It seems your idea is working." Delita said casually, planting his hands on his hips as Ramza leaned forward against the low barrier on the wall.

"Has Duke Goltana made his decision?"

"How would I know?" Delita replied with a small smile. "I'm simply a knight, like you."

"Please," Ramza almost laughed. "Time hasn't changed everything. If any 'simple knight' in Bethla knows what's going on, it is you."

Delita's smile widened at this, though he said nothing. He simply planted his hands on the mortar next to Ramza, and stared out as dusk set in. Delita had always been the one with insider knowledge, even when they were both just cadets at Gariland. For a long time, neither of them spoke, until finally Delita looked over at him.

"The Duke is having a meeting with his aides and generals this evening. I cannot say for sure what he will decide, but I believe you'll be able to see for yourself."

At that Ramza shot a look at him, puzzled.

"You haven't been told yet, and I probably shouldn't be the one to do so, but you've been… promoted." Delita said with a smirk. "When Goltana discovered who you were, and what you had done for the Southern Sky, he was left with two options. He could either send you to Larg as a peace offering, or go with the Count's suggestion and put you in command of the Knight Blades."

"Or simply kill me, and be done with it."

"That may have been another possibility. It does not matter. He is going to be assigning you and Izlude the Blades, and it is likely Orlandu will invite you to the meeting."

"What of you, Delita?" The new Commander of the Blade's inquired, turning to his friend. "What did you get for all your trouble?"

"Oh," The man replied, shrugging. "Nothing yet. Though I suspect this evening will… change that."

"How do you mean?"

"Pay it no mind, Ramza. I see one of the Count's men coming now, so I should be on my way."

Ramza watched the Holy Knight walk away, before turning toward the messenger Cid had sent for him.

* * *

Delita had been right on all counts, and Ramza was not surprised. He stood next to Count Orlandu, dressed in the uniform that identified him as the leader of the Knight Blades. He had yet to speak to Izlude yet, but assumed the young knight was excited about his new position. Ramza, on the other hand, was wary. He hadn't been in charge of more than a handful of soldiers while serving in either the Hokuten or Nanten, and was unsure if he was up to the task of managing an entire division; Especially one as diverse as the Blades. He would have plenty of time to ponder that later, however, after the meeting.

Goltana was the only man seated in the spacious hall, perched atop what may as well have been a throne. It was the first time Ramza had seen the Duke up close, and he gave the older noble a long look. Goltana was, in his opinion, the exact opposite of Duke Larg. He was heavyset, with more hair on his face than the crown of his head. He didn't appear to be the most disciplined ruler, but then again, few nobles did.

For the most part the discussion was dry, talks of taxes and what was to be done about civil unrest. Things Ramza had heard talked of often enough in Igros. So patiently the Blade stood, his eyes gazing into the distance as he listened with half an ear. When the door to chamber opened, his attention shifted, as Delita strode confidently into the room.

"Ah," Goltana said, wringing his hands together. "There you are. My advisors tell me you were instrumental in the rescue of the Princess."

Delita bowed before the Duke, lowering his head before speaking.

"My name is Delita Hyral, My Lord, Lieutenant of Baron Grimms Blackram Knights."

"So I have heard." The aging noble said, combing out his beard with one hand. "I have also heard that the Baron and his Rams fell while you undertook this task."

"Indeed they did. I am all that remain."

"Then I owe you my gratitude, young Blackram. Though there is another here whom I must address also."

The Duke looked up, catching Ramza's eye and motioning him forward. Ramza stepped swiftly to where Delita had knelt prostrate, and mirrored him.

"Ramza Beoulve," He chuckled lightly. "I had not expected _you_ to be in my employ, of all people."

Ramza said nothing, he merely kept his head bowed and waited for the man to continue.

"He was with you, Lieutenant Hyral?"

"Not initially, sir, no. I was operating on intelligence gathered by Lord Grimms. Ramza was on his own orders, from Count Orlandu. However were it not for him, I would not have been able to save her."

"I applaud your courage, young Beoulve, in standing up against this manner of treason."

Ramza nodded slowly, raising his eyes to the Duke.

"I have also heard of this plot against me, and wish to hear the details from another mouth."

"If you would allow it, I have a prisoner, one of the Northern Sky tasked with the kidnapping." Delita offered. "He can confirm what Captain Beoulve and I have already reported."

"Yes, yes, bring him forward."

Delita and Ramza stood as one, stepping aside as Delita motioned to a knight at the door. A moment later a man was brought forward, shackled and with obvious fear in his eyes. It took Ramza but a moment to recognize him as one of the Hokuten who had retreated from the falls. Delita had apparently tracked and captured him.

"Tell me," Delita said slowly. "Why you made an attempt on the Princess?"

"It was," The knight swallowed hard, before continuing. "To keep Duke Goltana from Lesalia. It was to put a stain on his name, and eliminate the Princess altogether."

"Did Duke Larg give the order?"

"No sir, not directly. The order was given by an aide close to Goltana, who wished to defect to the Nothern Sky."

As Ramza looked on, a man he did not know charged forward, anger spiking in his eyes. Ramza reacted without thinking, spinning toward the Chancellor and wrapping his fingers tight around the hilt of his blade. The man skittered to a stop, seeing this, but cried out all the same.

"Preposterous, no man here would dare betray our Duke! Cut out his serpent's tongue!"

Goltana stared at the man for a moment, before turning to Delita and nodding solemnly.

"Who gave you the order?" Delita pressed on, grabbing the knight by his collar.

The man remained silent, looking hopelessly around the room. After a moment Delita yanked on his tunic, forcing the man higher on his knees.

"Give me a name!"

"I'd have your protection?"

"On my honor as a knight, now out with it!"

"It was… that man, Chancellor Glevanne."

The Chancellor appeared shocked, but Ramza could tell instantly it was faked. Tightening his grip on the sword, the Blade moved to block the man's exit, staring him down.

"That's a lie! I do not even know that man!" He countered weakly.

"Who put you up to it, the Queen?" Delita accused, rounding on the aide.

"I know nothing of this! I swear it."

"Betraying your Lord is punishable by death, I'm afraid."

Delita drew his blade smoothly, holding it to the side as he stalked toward the Chancellor. Instantly all of the advisors, save Orlandu who stepped forward, leapt away. Ramza remained where he stood, blocking the minister and looking on.

The man, whimpering, cast one terrified look at him before Delita moved at him, thrusting his sword through the man without hesitation. The Chancellor struggled meekly for a moment before crumpling to the floor, as Delita yanked his weapon free.

"Forgive me if I presume too much, Your Grace, but there is no more time to waste on niceties. The Southern Sky must rise up against Lesalia at once, before Duke Larg has time to prepare a way to use this against you. Deny them the chance, My Lord! Take the city, and place Ovelia upon the throne!"

Standing next to Delita, hand slowly slipping from his hilt, Ramza realized the gravity of coming events. He hadn't been willing to admit it fully to himself before that moment, but he had known where his path had been taking him the moment he went after Ovelia. The War of the Lions had begun, and he would be right in the middle of it.

* * *

Author's Note: Short Chapter, and something of a fill in from the game. Might change some of the dialogue around, might now. Sets up for a much larger Chapter Seven that I'm working on now.


	7. The Siege of Lesalia

**Chapter Seven: The Siege of Lesalia**

* * *

As the sun descended across the horizon, the Southern Sky fell upon Lesalia.

It was said that the city was nearly as fortified as Bethla, for it had never been successfully sieged. The sprawling, walled Royal Capital loomed over an open plain on three sides, with the treacherous Finath River forming a natural moat along its northern face. The sentries could see an approaching army for miles, which made an open assault practically a joke. The Nanten knew this of course, and counted on it.

At the moment the mass of Nanten troops were entrenched dangerously close to the southern wall, a stone's throw from the range of snipers perched atop the ramparts. The force assembled was formidable, composed of every solider the Southern Sky could muster without leaving their forward garrisons at risk, but the Hokuten forces were unperturbed. The only legion missing were the Knight Blades.

Using the setting sun as their cover, they flew in silent unison. Ramza and the other Nanten commanders had planned out their strategy to the last detail, and drilled it hard while the rest of the army took their position as a distraction at the south wall. Training his men had been easy; The real trouble came from the chocobos. Various breeds inhabited the shores of the river, and they were as wild as any other beast of the land.

The large, ebony subspecies was considered only easier to train than their crimson counterparts, and it took a handful of days to capture and break enough of the birds for the task. As darkness began to settle over Ivalice, the sentries along the walls hindered by the change from day to night, the Knight Blades attacked.

The front of the V-shaped formation was composed of the best Lancers, along with Ramza and Izlude at the lead spots, their spears leveled forward as they closed the distance to the city. Behind them the blades rode double, archers and knights composing the majority of their attack team. Before the Hokuten lookouts could even see the approaching battle, the archers drew their arrows silently and released a small storm upon the wall.

Illuminated by torchlight, a dozen Hokuten fell in an instant, and the fort grew silent for the span of several wingbeats of their mounts. Then, as Ramza was nearly on top of the wall, the alarm was sounded. Knights swarmed out of the towers lining the city, blades drawn and eyes adjusting to the waning light, and were met almost immediately with lances and swords.

The Blades swarmed onto and over the west wall, and as planned Izlude and Ramza split the forces. Ramza, along with most of their snipers and dragoons, landed smoothly on the wall of the city. The Beoulve took only a moment to be sure the rest of Izlude's team were over the wall and into the city itself, before he dismounted and drew his blade.

The Hokuten forces at their level and below were in complete disarray. So focused were they on the ludicrous frontal assault the Nanten had prepared that they were unprepared for any real strategy. These men were not crack troops, they were mostly militia used to defending a city they believed impregnable. They were obliterated.

Ramza strode along the west wall, flanked by a pair of lancers as the cacophony below grew. As planned, his men purposefully set their barely tamed chocobos upon the city, essentially doubling their numbers as the frightened birds tore through the capital, toward the palace.

He moved with a purpose, as a handful of Hokuten emerged from the large southwest tower to meet him. Ramza issued no orders to the men at his back before charging ahead, a sharp cry rising above the din as he slammed his shield into the first knight. The man was thrown against the ramparts, and Ramza dove right into the group of them.

Men dropped to the right and left of him, from arrows and a thrown spear, but he didn't falter in his step. The Blades were well trained, there were times they might miss, but this was not one of them. Their Captain cut through the Hokuten, barely breaking stride as he moved from one man to the next.

A parry with his sword was followed by an elbow to the knight's face, driving the soldier back into his comrade as Ramza pivoted, driving his longsword through both of the ill-equipped Hokuten. Abandoning that weapon to avoid an overhead slash, Ramza leapt onto the stone wall, spinning to kick his attacker in the throat. Throwing his shield into the face of another knight, he took off across the narrow wall, carefully remaining balanced as he ran.

He dove full into the man at the back of the tower's compliment, surprising the soldier and tackling him roughly to the hard stone floor. It took only a moment to yank the short blade from the squire's hand and plunge it into his side, before he rolled to his feet. Ramza ran toward the tower, as the rest of his men finished off the remaining forces behind him, and kicked the heavy door inward.

The signal had to be given quickly or Izlude and the rest of his soldiers would be doomed. As Ramza secured the tower, his Blades filing in behind him, he silently prayed for Delita and Agrias, beneath the city.

* * *

Agrias had been wary when she was invited to the strategy meetings for the Assault on the Royal City, and more than a little shamed. She had spent a good portion of her life in Lesalia, training and living as a St. Konoe Knight. The city was home to her, and she knew many of the people living in it still. It had dawned on her, during the first meeting, exactly why Delita and Ramza had asked her to come. It was _because _she knew Lesalia, and the secrets it held, such as the catacombs.

They had been built when the city was still young, and were so old that few even knew they existed. Those that did guarded the secret well, for it was a weakness that could prove devastating, as it would soon enough. Delita himself had come along, bringing some of the more skilled Nanten as Agrias lead him along the north wall, the river muffling the sounds of battle to the west.

She hadn't wanted to simply hand the Southern Sky the city she loved, and it took some convincing. Delita and eventually the Duke himself assured her that the Nanten had no interest in occupying the city or endangering its people. They simply needed to bring the Queen, unharmed, to answer for her betrayal. Agrias could stomach this, for she too had been a victim of the plot.

All these thoughts ran through her head as she and Delita slipped through the secret passage beneath the city, a small compliment of Nanten at their backs. So wrapped up in her own reverie was she that she didn't hear Delita until he repeated himself.

"Agrias," He began quietly, a hand resting on her arm. "Where from here?"

"Oh, yes," The Holy Knight stuttered. "Left, it will wind around toward the center of the city."

"I understand you're uncomfortable with this." Delita said as they continued on. "Do not worry, we're doing the right thing. Ruvelia needs to be brought to justice."

"It's just… I swore I would protect the Crown, and here I am endangering it."

"I did the same, Agrias." He replied with a curt smile. "Sometimes you must protect the nobility from itself."

"I suppose…"

They moved quietly through the passage, Agrias stopping the procession at every bend to take stock of the next hallway.

"As expected, they don't even have sentries posted here. We should come out just inside the prison within the palace."

Delita nodded slightly, slipping around the corner before pausing and turning back.

"You don't have to come with us if you wish to stay. You swore no oath to the Southern Sky, and we may run across other St. Konoe."

"I know." Agrias said, sighing. "I took an oath to keep the Princess safe, and if doing so requires this, it is a burden I will bear."

"Very well." He replied, addressing the other Nanten. "Ready your weapons. Remember, the Queen must not be harmed. Any man that does so will meet with my blade personally."

* * *

High, bright flames washed over Ramza as he stepped last out of the tower after the other Blades. The conflagration they had set was the signal to the Nanten army outside of the walls, who slowly began to advance through the darkness. The Blades work was far from finished, however. Snatching up a heavy spear from the wall, Ramza clambered onto one of the ramparts, calm hazel eyes scanning the melee below. Izlude and the rest of the Blades had pushed toward the massive southern gate, but were held fast by a larger force of Hokuten.

"Lancers with me!" He shouted, not waiting for their cry of assent.

The Beoulve leapt from the wall, aiming the point of the thick spear downward as he fell. His aim was practiced and near perfect as the Captain finished his descent, impaling an enemy knight clean through moments before he cut down a staggered Blade. Ramza's shoulders were immediately sore from the impact as he landed, and relieving the dying knight of his sword, Ramza moved into the fray.

With the arrival of the rest of the dragoons, the tide of the battle turned. Ramza cut his way through to Izlude, who was still at the front of their regiment, and grasped him tightly by the arm.

"We need that gate open before they have a chance to regroup, or all this is for naught."

Izlude nodded firmly, a light stream of blood flowing down his cheek. Driving forward, Izlude and Ramza punched through the Hokuten at the head of their defensive line, a slew of arrows falling all around them. The two young Blades had fought together for months, and were brutally efficient. Every move complimented the others, taking such a toll so quickly that the garrison troops were forced to back-peddle furiously.

Driving a man onto Izlude's blade, Ramza pivoted a moment too late, and felt the sting of steel into his flesh. The cut was shallow but painful, along his left flank, but was answered with one much more deadly from Ramza himself. Wincing, he pushed forward, the Blades closing the distance to the gate in moments. The Hokuten were shouting, trying to decide which threat was larger; the massive army just outside their walls, or the men cutting them apart from the inside.

They would never have to decide, as the heavy wooden gate fell outward with a groan, crashing to the ground. The resounding boom was followed by the cries of dozens of Nanten troops swarming into the city, as Ramza and his blades fell back to rest for a moment. Izlude gathered next to him and the others, kneeling to catch his breath.

"Orders?" The young Lieutenant asked, panting, as Ramza leaned on his sword for some respite.

"Take the men and help the other soldiers here, I shall make for Delita."

"Alone?" Izlude asked, worry etching on his features. "Are you sure?"

"I'll be fine. They, however, may still be in danger."

Izlude nodded reluctantly, and Ramza clasped him hard on the shoulder, before he jogged off toward the castle in the center of the city. The Hokuten reservists may have been routed, but this was the city of the St. Konoe. Holy Knights would not be so easily dispatched.

* * *

Agrias straddled the motionless form of a fallen Nanten knight, the woman's breathing shallow and erratic. There was no time to see to her condition, as the Holy Knights kept up their assault. Delita had moved to the side, engaging two of the St. Konoe without restraint, and matching the seasoned men easily.

They had made it so far that Agrias was beginning to believe the entire extraction would be easy. She was paying for her confidence now. The St. Konoe had been dispatched at the very moment the Nanten had arrived at Lesalia's door, no doubt preparing to evacuate the Queen if the need arose. The entire palace was surely locked down with Holy Knights at every entrance.

They hadn't expected Agrias and the Nanten to come waltzing through the very passage they were taking Ruvelia, but they were definitely prepared. Cornered just outside of the Queen's antechamber, Delita and Agrias fought a losing battle. She had hesitated, at first, when the knights she had once fought with arrived. It had been their undoing.

No mercy was given by the St. Konoe, and the Nanten that had come with them had been no match for a half dozen men wielding holy sword skills. In but a moment most of the soldiers had been struck down, as Agrias and Delita fought back desperately. Agrias was tormented by the faces of the two she had wounded, for she knew each and every one of her foes by name. Distantly she wondered if, in the end, she would falter.

That thought alone was enough, and the Holy Knights seemed to see it on her face. Three of them came at her at once, unleashing their skills in rapid succession. Agrias dove to the side, seeking to draw their attacks away from the downed Nanten. She managed to avoid two of the ethereal blades, the floor of the castle exploding upward from the raw power of the holy magic. Hitting the ground hard, she rolled, clambering to her hands and knees in time to realize she was doomed, as the third knight whipped his blade down.

Delita Hyral saved her. The hair on the back of Agrias neck stood up as the static charge from the lightning stab formed, and she lowered her head defensively. The explosion in front of her jarred the woman to her side, and it took her a moment to understand what had happened. Delita fell to his knees in front of her, bracing himself with his sword, as smoke poured off of his charred armor.

"Noble, Nanten dog, but foolish."

Agrias stumbled to her feet, rushing to stand in front of her savior, sword at the ready. Delita had managed to take down one of the Holy Knights before coming to her aid, but there were still four to contend with. It was futile for her to stand against them, for they were all nearly as skilled as she, but she refused to do otherwise. Her honor would permit no such cowardice.

"Lay down your sword Lady Oaks, and we will consider granting you a noble, swift death."

"I cannot, Wedge." She said calmly, tightening her grip. "The Queen has betrayed my charge, and our cause is just."

"Very well," The man said, sighing. "Then you die a traitor, with your family name-"

"Agrias!"

The Holy Knights, startled, turned their blades toward Ramza as he entered the room. Holding a bloody sword in one hand, and covered in the grime of battle, the Beoulve made his way quickly to her side.

"Looks like I got here just in time," He whisped, kneeling next to Delita and looking up at her. "Any advice on how I would beat you?"

Agrias stared down at him for a moment, perplexed, until she understood at the same moment Delita did.

"Easy, my friend." The man said, his voice rough. "Don't get hit."

Ramza's smile was pained as he took Delita's sword from him, rising slowly to his feet. The Blade stood with both weapons in hand, taking stock of the St. Konoe in front of him. There was a long silence in the room, the holy knights shooting confused expressions to each other.

"I am Ramza Beoulve. I give you this one chance to release the Queen to the Southern Sky, to answer for her crimes against her Royal Highness Princess Ovelia."

There barely a moment's pause before Wedge began laughing, two of the others joining in.

"So be it." Ramza said viciously.

Even Agrias hadn't been prepared for his speed. Ramza launched forward in an instant, both swords gleaming in the ambient light of the chamber. The St. Konoe immediately went on the defensive, as Ramza locked blades with Wedge and the knight at his side.

Agrias moved then, running along the side of the chamber as Ramza kept the first two knights busy. She had to line herself up perfectly, or the Beoulve was at risk of being cut down in a moment. Sliding to a stop across the cracked floor, she raised her sword, the two men in the back having hesitated to use their skills so close to their allies. Agrias let loose a holy explosion, blinding light and a deafening blast tearing downward through both men.

They stumbled and fell, stunned but not mortally wounded, as Agrias turned her attention to helping Ramza. The man was masterful in his own way, which Agrias had to attribute to the fact that he wasn't properly trained in swordplay. He weaved from one attack to the next, each parry and strike flowing without a discernable pattern. His lake of formal training was his advantage, for it made him unpredictable, almost reckless. Ramza fought like no man she had seen before, and clearly Wedge and his ally had not either.

Ramza kept the St. Konoe off balance, constantly on the defensive, and unable to use their formidable magic to aid them. Wedge finally broke away, clearing some room to attempt to get a skill off, and Agrias was waiting for him. The man realized his mistake even as he made it, turning and attempting to avoid the jagged blade of ice as it fell upon him. With a pained cry, the man hit the floor, sliding across it and into a damaged pillar as Ramza pushed the other knight back.

A spin, the first blade knocking the knights own weapon high, to be followed by a solid cut across the man's chestplate, and Ramza leapt up, jamming his knee into the less protected stomach. The St. Konoe doubled over slightly, but parried the incoming slash, kicking away and rolling to his feet. Ramza was on him in a second, each cut and slash getting just inside the more experienced knight's guard. It was a deep gash to the arm that finally ended the fight, as Ramza kicked the man's sword away, and shouldered him to the floor.

He was slightly out of breath as he righted himself, while Agrias relieved the rest of the knights of their weapons. Without a sword, they were hardly a threat any longer, though all but Wedge held onto consciousness. She tried not to dwell on what felt like a betrayal, and went with Ramza to check on Delita. The man had moved to a seated position, and though he was clearly in a great deal of pain, he was smiling.

"Good form Ramza."

"Should I fetch a healer?" Agrias interjected, kneeling next to the knight.

"No, no, I'll be fine. Ramza, secure the Queen, quickly. I don't want to give her any chance to escape from us."

Nodding quickly, Ramza handed Delita back his blade, sheathing his own. He jogged off toward Ruvelia's antechamber, glancing at the downed holy knights as he went.

"You there." Delita said to the St. Konoe in the best condition. "You have two choices. Either take your men and go, now, or remain here and become prisoners of the Southern Sky."

"You mean to let us live?" Biggs, the lieutenant Ramza had disarmed, was incredulous.

"I won't punish you for doing your duty. Go now, before less merciful Nanten arrive."

As the man gathered the rest of the holy knights, and made haste for the very catacombs that had granted the Southern Sky entrance, Agrias took stock of Delita's wounds. They didn't appear severe, but no doubt he was still in a great deal of pain from soaking the brunt of the lightning stab that had been meant for her.

"Delita, thank you." She said quietly. "Had you not stepped into the path of that…"

"It's nothing." He replied dismissively, nodding to the antechamber door as Ramza returned, a ranting noble in hand. "Help me up, if you would."

Agrias took the man's arm, wincing with Delita as he struggled to his feet. He sagged heavily against her side, though it was a reassurance he had the strength to remain upright under his own legs. Ramza walked the Queen toward them, his grip tight around her upper arm, as footfalls approached from down the hall.

"I assume that would be the rest of the Nanten?" Delita asked, his gaze falling upon the Beoulve.

"Yes. We had little trouble securing the south gate. The garrison was unprepared."

"Everything went as planned then. Good."

"Well," Ramza replied with a rueful smirk at Delita's scorched armor. "Not _everything_."

The two young men laughed, though it obviously hurt both of them to do so. Agrias could see no obvious wound on Ramza, though it seemed he had taken one outside of the castle. They were both still laughing when several Nanten filed into the hall, Orlandu at the head of the procession.

"Count," Delita said, bowing his head slightly. "Welcome to Lesalia Castle."

"It's not the first time I've walked these halls my boy." The old knight replied with a smile, turning his gaze upon the Queen.

"Ruvelia, what a pleasure it is to see you again. It has been so long."

"Still chasing noble skirts, are we Cid?"

"It seems this time I caught one."

Despite their banter, the smiles exchanged were not friendly. There was a deep animosity of some sort between the two that stemmed from years past, Agrias could see that easily.

"I would know why you have betrayed the crown, and fallen upon Lesalia?" Ruvelia asked, squaring her shoulders.

"Funny how you, of all people, would speak of betrayal. I always knew you to be selfish and manipulative, my dear Queen, but plotting to murder the Princess… that is a new low indeed."

Ruvelia's jaw muscles clenched, but she said nothing. She knew already why they had come, and no doubt had suspected such a thing might happen. The woman turned her face upward, the expression falling over it morphing her attractive features into something less so.

"The Princess is weak and young. It was for the good of Ivalice."

"Save your lies for Goltana, I'll have none of them."

Orlandu motioned to the Nanten who stepped forward to escort the Queen away from Ramza and out of the room. Cid watched them go for a long moment, before turning back toward the remaining three in the room.

"Well done, all of you. We've taken the city with minimal casualties on both sides. It was much better this way. Ramza, will your Blades accept the task of escorting the Queen to Bethla?"

"It would be our honor."

"Very well, get some rest, and depart at first light."

Cid left hurriedly to deal with the issues of subduing an enemy fort, as Ramza slipped to the other side of his friend to help Agrias take him out. The woman was certain now that Ramza had sustained an injury of his own, for his movements were nearly as slow as Delita's, and done with as much care.

With the fervor of battle gone, all three were weary in their stride as the departed Lesalia castle, meeting with Izlude and the Blades who waited outside. Ramza's division stood with weapons drawn, prepared for any stray Hokuten who remained within the city, along with a large, ebony bird who waited at the fringes.

"He was here when we arrived." Izlude explained, jerking his head toward the chocobo. "I think he likes you."

Ramza laughed as he released Delita, who had now recovered enough to walk on his own, and walked over to the mount. He rubbed its neck gently and was rewarded with a low thrumming and a nudge of the beak. After a moment he turned back to the Blades.

"Make for camp, and rest up. We've got a long trip back to the garrison."

* * *

**Author's Note:** It has been a long time since I updated, and I apologize for that. I have gone through and re-written this chapter three times, and it was different each time. I'm afraid I'm simply not as good as writing an epic battle as I once was, but I've given up on perfecting it. Perhaps it will come back to me in time. I'm still pretty happy with this chapter, as it hints toward future allegiences and events. I'll begin work on the next chapter either tonight or tomorrow, depending on if I can get it all together in my head. Updates should come faster now that I'm past this small blockage. I really hope people get the Holy Knight cameos :P


	8. Leverage

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Chapter Eight: Leverage

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* * *

**

Meliadoul sat in darkness, her heavy green cloak wrapped tightly around her to fight off the invasive chill. It was deep into the night, but she had opted not to sleep, instead letting her mind wander as she waited. Save the Queen lay sheathed next to her, as the woman leaned deeper into the thick canvas of the tent; the hustle and bustle of returning soldiers outside breaking the silence that had overtaken the clearing.

It wasn't long until the flap of the large tent opened, though the man who entered wasn't the one she was waiting for. She should have figured that her brother would share sleeping arrangements with the Beoulve. They seemed quite close, after all. Mel wasn't sure what to make of that closeness, as it seemed to go beyond the friends Izlude had kept back at Murond, and she wasn't the most trusting of it.

She loved her brother dearly, but she also knew his weaknesses. The boy was far too trusting. He always had been. Izlude saw the best in people, ignoring their flaws and only noting what little good may have been in them. As admirable and noble a trait that may be, it was also fundamentally dangerous. Meliadoul was more reserved about whom she put her faith in, and for this reason she didn't announce her presence as Ramza came into his tent.

The knight didn't notice her in the gloom, as he stood just inside the entrance and let his head roll in a slow circle. She could see him clearly, awash from the light of campfires the other Nantens had build outside, and he wasn't exactly in the best shape. The man was covered in grime and dried blood, and he stepped gingerly, his unseen wounds tender.

The Beoulve grabbed an armful of wood from a pile nearby, and moments later a small fire was building, smoke wafting out through the small chimney hole in the roof of the tent. Meliadoul sat stock still, deep brown eyes on the knight as he worked.

There were two faces to every person. The one that they brought out in the company of others, and the one reserved for when they were alone or with those they loved, away from the prying eyes of the world. Mel hadn't planned on spying on him, but found she was as Ramza slowly unbuckled and slipped out of his armor. It was a slow ceremony, as the young knight inspected each piece of equipment, wiping it down and placing it in the corner near his bedroll.

It was soothing, watching his meticulous care of his equipment, and minutes seemed to tick by before he finished. Then Ramza stood, tugging the bloody tunic he wore, exposing the wound Meliadoul had suspected when she saw him walk in. A deep gash ran along his left side, some blood still seeping out of the parted flesh. Ramza seemed to pay it little mind as he walked over to the pan of water, leaning on the back of the only chair for a moment before he washed his face.

It was then that Mel stood, deciding she should make her presence known before he stripped down and turned the situation more embarrassing. So as Ramza finished rinsing the dust of battle from his face she cleared her throat. Most men, so tightly wound from a life of combat, would have been startled at a disturbance such as this. Ramza did not. He simply turned to glance over at her, before drying himself. Most men would have been angry at such an obvious disregard for privacy. Ramza's face was calm.

"Izlude should be back shortly, he's just finishing up some business."

"Preparing for the journey back to Bethla, no doubt?"

Ramza hesitated for a long moment, a dozen unasked questions plain on his face, before nodding. It took Meliadoul but a moment, as she walked across the expansive tent to meet him, to see that he was nervous. She'd been called intimidating before, but she hadn't expected it from him. He certainly hadn't seemed that way the first time they had met. Then he glanced down, at his discarded shirt, and Mel realized why.

He wasn't nervous because she was so direct in her manner. It was a different kind entirely, one that was a bit more juvenile. He was uncomfortable because a girl was in his tent when he was not fully dressed. Smiling slightly, the divine knight walked right up to the boy, looking him up and down for a moment. She swore she saw him blush.

"Have you seen a chemist about that?"

"About what?"

"You mean to tell me this doesn't hurt?" She asked, tugging gently on his left side to aggravate the wound.

"Oh," He said, cringing. "Yes. I suppose it does. Others are worse though, I can wait."

"Sit." Meliadoul ordered, in a tone that allowed for no discussion.

The young Beoulve sat gingerly, resting an arm on the table next to the wash pan as Mel tugged her hood back and knelt beside him. She inspected the cut for a moment before retrieving a damp cloth from the pan. It took several minutes to clean the wound as best she could, and Meliadoul tossed the bloodstained rag down next to her.

Divine knights, as with most of the orders of the Church, were trained in the holy arts as a prerequisite, though it had been some time since Mel had been required to use the skills. Resting one hand on Ramza's chest and the other on his side, she closed her eyes to concentrate on the task.

She let instinct take over, guiding her hands as she felt out the wound and placed her other hand directly over his heart. She couldn't see the flush on the boy's face, but was sure it was there. It was interesting to her that a man in charge of an entire Nanten division could be such a boy when it came to something such as this. Trying not to let that distract her, she set to work.

It was a simple matter of encouraging Ramza's body to work more rapidly, the soft glow from her palm aiding it as his body naturally healed itself at an accelerated rate. In a few moments the wound closed itself, knitting the flesh back together to the point that there was only a trace of a scar. Content that she had done it right, Mel released the wound and looked it over, before smirking up at him.

"Th-thank you." He said quietly, not quite meeting her gaze.

It was almost cute, in a way, how he seemed to have absolutely no experience in dealing with women. Not that Meliadoul herself was experienced, but she never had a problem interacting with boys. She was completely in control of herself, and never allowed herself to act differently in such situations. Mel was herself at all times, regardless of company.

_Yet my hand is still on his chest._

"Ramza!"

At the call of his name from outside of the tent, a woman's voice, Ramza shifted, his gaze jumping to the open tent flap as Meliadoul herself glanced back. It wasn't a second later that a blonde woman, a knight by the look of her, leaned into the tent. Her eyes took in the scene quickly, one brow rising as she looked at Ramza and Mel.

"I apologize, I wasn't aware you had… company. It can wait until morning."

Ramza began to stutter something and stood, as the woman turned and walked away. Meliadoul thought she saw a touch of jealousy on the woman's face, and couldn't help but sputter out a small laugh. The older knight's feelings were misplaced, if she construed that scene as something romantic.

"Huh? Who would want to visit Ramza?"

Meliadoul smiled at the sound of her brother's voice, and a moment later Izlude slipped into the tent, eyes curious. The grin he gave her made her heart leap, and the boy dropped his gear to stride over and hug her tightly.

"Mel, what are you doing here?" He asked with a laugh, before his eyes narrowed over at his nervously fidgeting friend. "Um, Ramza, want to explain why you're half naked with my sister?"

"You see, I was," He began, pointing to the chair and then at Mel. "She was… er…"

"What he means to say, I think, is that he had been hurt and I was healing him." Meliadoul supplied, smiling wryly at Ramza.

"Fair enough." Izlude replied with a shrug, motioning for her to sit as Ramza found a clean tunic and slipped it on. "But why are you here? Shouldn't you be in Bervenia?"

Ramza settled to the floor with Izlude next to the small fire, leaning back on his hands as the small flush of red slowly drained from his face. Mel got comfortable as well, before speaking.

"I was called back the day you left, actually. I remained at Murond for a few weeks, until the High Priest assigned me to the Southern Sky."

"Ah, I see." Izlude said, nodding thoughtfully.

"Wait, I don't." Ramza cut in, perplexed. "I wasn't aware the Church hired out their knights."

"That's right, you're not as familiar with it as I am, sorry." Izlude said shyly. "In a time of war the Templars send a representative to make reports to the Church. It's quite common actually."

"Really? I thought the Church was impartial when it came to the affairs of the nobility?"

"We are, in a way." Meliadoul supplied with a shrug. "Ignoring the fact that most Templars are of noble birth, and all the ranking ones are, I suppose. We send envoys to both sides of the dispute to help broker for peace. I report on Duke Goltana, and our father went to Igros to meet with Duke Larg and your brothers."

There was a long silence, as the two boys locked gazes. Meliadoul felt oddly out of place in their silent conversation, which irked her somewhat. She wasn't too fond of someone being that in tune with her brother's thoughts. After a moment, Ramza turned his gaze back to her.

"You know who I am?"

"Oh, yes." She replied, laughing lightly. "Your friend, Delita, was the one who informed us of Larg's plot and your involvement. He came to the Templars with the justification for the siege of the Royal City. It wasn't that surprising to find out you were Beoulve, once I thought about it."

"Funny, it surprised the hell out of me." Izlude said, rolling his eyes.

"Everything surprises you, dear brother."

Izlude responded by making a face, the atmosphere suddenly lighter than it had been previously.

"You'll be coming to Bethla with us, I assume?"

"Indeed. Part of my duties includes ensuring prisoners of war are not mistreated. I've been assigned as part of the escort for the Queen."

"My sister, sleeping on the ground. This should be interesting."

Meliadoul shot Izlude a look before smiling, a yawn breaking before she could stop herself. She covered her mouth and apologized as Ramza stood, digging through one of his packs.

"Have you made sleeping arrangements for the evening?" He asked, his back to her.

"Not as of yet, I'll work something out."

"No need." The Beoulve stood, bedroll in hand. "You and Izlude can stay here, I'll bed down with the rest of the Blades for the night."

"Oh, thank you, but that's not necessary. These are your quarters, I don't wish to impose."

Ramza glanced sideways at Izlude, a small smile touching his lips, before he snatched up his sword and slung it over his shoulder. Without a word the blonde knight slipped silently out of the tent.

"Does he always ignore people when they disagree with him?"

Meliadoul glanced at her brother, a little annoyed. She didn't enjoy being coddled, or treated differently because she was a woman, and Izlude knew this first hand. Yet the boy was smiling smugly at her, arranging his own bed.

"Only when they're being irrational."

"I fail to see how I am any such thing, or how that would make him want to sacrifice his bed."

"He didn't give up his tent because of anything _you_ are, Mel, he did it because of what _he_ is."

"Oh, and what is he then?"

"He's… just Ramza." Izlude said thoughtfully, climbing into bed and closing his eyes.

Those words drifted through her head as she lay on her back in Ramza's bed, aware of the pleasant scent of the man upon the sheets. Ramza Beoulve seemed fundamentally different from any man she had met before, down to the very core. It both intrigued and frustrated her at the same time, and it was half an hour before she could finally turn off her mind and drift to sleep, Izlude's light snoring reminding her of a home almost forgotten.

* * *

The trip to Bethla Garrison had been rather uneventful, aside from a pack of bandits that saw the entire compliment of Blades and ran away with their collective tails between their legs. Ramza was glad to be back within the familiar walls of the garrison, and immediately had Izlude give the men the entire day to themselves. His Blades had earned some time without training or drills, and it was better that the order came from Izlude. Ramza would be the discipline, the rock they all broke against, and his friend would be the one who gave them respite.

After the Tingel siblings set off to enjoy their free time, Ramza made his way into the garrison proper, seeking the two St. Konoe that had been left behind during the siege. He found the two women where he expected, standing guard outside of Ovelia's room.

"What a coincidence, we were just talking about you." Lavian said warmly, leaning against the wall next to Ovelia's door.

"Word came yesterday of the siege, I have to say we were a little impressed."

Alicia sat in a chair, and looked considerably better than when Ramza had left. The woman was still recovering from the attack on Orbonne, though now she looked almost fit to be in the field. No doubt they would prefer to remain with the Princess, however, as it seemed both women had a knack for gossip, which Ovelia listened to intently.

"How is the Princess?" Ramza asked with a smile.

"She's well. I think she's still asleep actually."

"Then I won't disturb her."

"So, is it true you took the gates of Lesalia single handed?"

"Hardly." Ramza said with a laugh. "Izlude did far more than I."

"Yet it's not Izlude they're talking about."

Ramza was perplexed, as he glanced from one woman to the other. They were both smiling as if privy to a joke only they knew, and the knights locked eyes.

"Lavian, I don't think he's heard."

"Heard what?" Ramza asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Well, a runner came yesterday with news from Lesalia, and he told us a great deal." Alicia began, still smiling.

"Apparently," Lavian cut in. "Soldiers from both the Northern and Southern Sky are referring to you as the 'Lion of the South'. It has quite a ring to it, don't you think?"

Ramza rolled his eyes, crossing both arms over his chest.

"I don't give much stock to rumor. I'll stop by later, when the Princess is about, if that's alright."

"Of course," Alicia began, smirking. "Oh, wait, I forgot something. A man also came for you. He should be in the common area."

"Who is it?"

"I'm not sure, but Ramza… he asked for you by _name_."

Ramza nodded, his mind wandering as he walked away. He couldn't think of anyone who would come to Bethla seeking him, especially one who used his name so freely. It made him a bit wary, but he wasn't that concerned. It could be just about anyone. Ramza made his way down to the commons, where many of the garrison spent their free time.

As he half expected, he saw Izlude and Meliadoul sitting together, chatting amiably and eating. Izlude motioned him over but Ramza waved it off, his gaze crawling across the room for a face he didn't recognize. It didn't take but a moment to spot the man. He was clad in deep mahogany furs that covered a fair bit of armor, with a large hat more suited to cooler climates. The man sat in the back of the large chamber, arms and legs crossed as he slouched nonchalantly in his seat.

Dark, unfathomable eyes remained locked onto Ramza as he approached the man, noting the grey in his beard as he got closer. Whoever he was, he was supremely self confident and likely a seasoned soldier. The man stood as Ramza arrived, and held up a hand to silence him.

"Ramza Beoulve," He began in a rough voice. "My name is Gafgarion. I have been sent with a message for you. You are to come to the Golgorand Gallows in three days time, alone. If you fail to do so, your sister's life will be forfeit."

Anger flared in him as the man went to leave, and he grabbed Gafgarion roughly by the arm. The man, old as he may be, was solid in build, and barely moved when Ramza pulled him back.

"What have you done to her?"

"I am simply the messenger, boy. You should take that question up with your brothers."

The knight shrugged out of Ramza's grasp as the young man's blood ran cold. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Izlude and Meliadoul approaching, a look of mirrored concern on their faces. Something in his eyes set Izlude on edge, the young Lieutenants hand falling to the hilt of his blade.

_My brothers? Would they really stoop to using Alma against me? Their own blood?_

"Ramza, what is it?" Izlude asked in a whisper.

"I… I have to leave. Now."

* * *

Sitting atop Atro, on a ridge overlooking the execution site, Ramza tried to focus. He regretted the way he had spoken to Izlude back at the garrison, and the guilt of his harsh tone still ate at him. His friend had wanted to help, had insisted he and some of the Blades go along. That was no reason to snap, but Ramza couldn't stop himself.

Izlude didn't understand. This was Alma's life at stake, and even if Ramza was walking into an ambush, he wouldn't take the risk. Gafgarion had told him to go alone, and so he did. Ramza slowly dismounted from the black bird, patting it lightly as he stretched his sore legs. Methodically he removed his gear from the mount, hitching his rune sword to his side and tucking a smaller blade into his belt.

He ordered the chocobo to remain there, and it seemed to understand, as he set off down the slope toward the gallows. Wind whipped against him, forcing Ramza to pull the scarf tighter around his mouth and nose. It was slow going down the large ridge, but he made it to the gallows with time to spare before the sun fell beyond the horizon. From what he could tell there were no soldiers waiting to ambush him, though he honestly didn't care if there were.

The execution site was once used often, centuries before, until its final victim sealed its fate. Saint Ajora, the prophet and leader of the Zodiac Braves, was executed there for crimes against the Church. Legend said that it was because of this that the nearby city was consumed by the sea, erased from history so thoroughly that none even knew its name.

Dust blew across the site as Ramza ascended the corroded stone stairs on either side of the gallows, his eyes darting from one shadow to the next. He saw no sign of Alma, or of anyone else, and was beginning to wonder what game was being played with him.

"Cutting it rather close, aren't we?"

Ramza spun at Gafgarion's voice, his eyes narrowing. The man strode confidently out from beneath an archway not far away, hand resting on the large sword at his hip.

"My sister, where is she?"

"I assume she's still at Orbonne. Dycedarg sent her there not a week ago to keep her out of the way."

"You deceived me!"

"Don't be naïve, boy, of course I did."

"For what purpose? What do you want?"

"Did you think you could betray the Hokuten, dishonor the Beoulve name, and there would be no consequences? Oh ho, I'm here to bring you to Igros. Playtime with the Nanten is over, I'm afraid."

"You're daft if you think I'll come quietly."

"On the contrary," Gafgarion laughed, slowly drawing the Defender from its sheath. "I was hoping you'd do the opposite."

Ramza pulled his weapon free as the knight raised his sword, and immediately the atmosphere around him shifted. A terrible weight pressed down on him from above and below, before the ethereal blade tore into him. Ramza staggered, falling against the ancient stone steps, before stumbling to his feet, Gafgarion's rumbling laugh behind him.

"You're… a Touten?" Ramza asked, his breath coming in jagged from the pain the spell had caused. "I thought the Western Sky had gone dark."

"It was _always_ dark, whelp."

Ramza ran up the steps as another spell tore through the stone behind him, flinging bits of mortar into the air. The sun perched itself just above the horizon, its great orange light illuminating the duel. Ramza could hear the spells impacting behind him as he ran, followed by Gafgarions laughter. He assumed his foe was trying to escape, when the opposite was true.

Sprinting across the archway Gafgarion had walked through, Ramza pivoted, a blade of blue black magic slicing the air a hand's length from his face. Two long strides and he leapt, clearing the low wall and throwing himself through the air toward the dark knight. The Touten hadn't expected such a straightforward charge, and his sword faltered mid swing.

Ramza's leap brought him down onto the man, both of them going down in a hard impact that sent him sprawling. Rolling with it, Ramza flipped nimbly onto the balls of his feet, and went right back at the man. Gafgarion didn't possess the agility of youth, and had barely gotten to his knees when Ramza's sword came down. The older knight had the advantage of experience and raw power, but he lacked the speed and fluidity that Ramza held.

Each blow landed forced the dark knight back farther, as he used more energy wielding the heavier blade, and tired faster. Ramza, on the other hand, was barely expending himself, throwing quick cuts and thrusts, leaving Gafgarion no time to utilize his sword techniques.

His haste and urge to win pushed him too far, and Ramza didn't realize he'd made the mistake until it was too late. Overextended, he left his arm exposed, and the Touten grabbed it. The grip on his wrist was like a vice, as the man pulled Ramza's arm to the side.

The heavier, golden sword was swung hard at Ramza's head, the impact of the flat side of it shooting tendrils of darkness across his vision. Another blow and it would knock him out cold. Gafgarion cocked the weapon back to do it again, and Ramza cried out, grabbing his sword arm with his other hand. He fell back, using his weight and jamming both of his feet into the older man's stomach.

They both went down and Ramza pushed up with his legs, throwing the Touten off and to the side, the impact jarring the older man. Both swords went skittering away, but while the dark knight scrambled for his, Ramza leapt atop him. He bore down on the man with his knee, drawing the shortsword from his belt in the same moment.

With the tip of the blade pressed to the back of his neck, Gafgarion went still. Ramza stood slowly, taking to two steps needed to kick the Defender out of the man's reach as he sat up. For a long moment the only sound was that of the wind howling against the stone around them.

"I yield." Gafgarion finally said with a sigh, his breath short. "Do make it quick."

Ramza walked up to him slowly, his eyes locked onto the man's. He wanted to kill him, then and there, for using Alma against him. Deep down, however, he knew it wasn't the Touten who had done this. His brothers were the ones responsible, the ones who sought to control him. Gafgarion's eyes dropped to the earth, as he struggled to control his breathing. Ramza hesitated for only a moment longer, before he tucked the sword back into his belt.

"I'm not going to kill you, Touten." He said coolly. "But my mercy comes with a price…"

* * *

**Author's Note:** First and foremost I want to thank HopelessRomanticist for reading through my work before it's posted and making some edits. When reading your own story, immediately after writing it, you tend to miss things. As one of the reviews said, I made grammar mistakes in previous chapters, usually from deleting a line I was struggling with and failing to fix it properly. I plan to go back through and edit them as soon as I finish Chapter Ten, which is in the works now.

I'm currently running through some of the side-characters in Tactics, looking for others that could be smoothly implemented into the story down the road. I already have a few from left field that might be unexpected, but I would love to hear any suggestions a reader has. I may have completely forgotten about a character that could fit right into the arc, so feel free to put any you think of in a review or Message.

I hope you enjoy the spin on Gafgarion's involvement, and thanks for reading.


	9. Sword and Stone

**Chapter Nine: Sword and Stone**

**

* * *

**

Coughing, the metallic taste of blood still on her lips, Meliadoul pushed herself into a sitting position. It was easier to lie on her side, with her hands shackled so tightly along the small of her back, but the chill of the stone floor eventually became too much for her, and breathing in that position was difficult. The knight let her head fall back against the wall, slouching against it, and began to shimmy her body as best she could to try and cover her thighs with the thin tunic.

She'd been stripped of dignity and weapons when they had ambushed her, but it wasn't shame she felt inside. It was anger. She was seething, locked inside the dark room, and revenge dominated her thoughts. Mel took a deep breath of the stale air, wincing as she felt the familiar sharpness of a broken rib on her right side. They certainly hadn't gone easy on her, and no doubt the footsteps she heard heralded some more bodily harm.

The woman set her chin as the door swung inward, the torchlight momentarily blinding her. The man who entered was heavy-set and balding, though something about him was wrong. Physically he looked lazy and weak, but something seemed to radiate from deep within, a darkness of some kind. Mel hadn't met this man before, but she knew the moment he came in the door that there was definite evil within him. The man paused at the door for a moment before closing it and walking slowly over to her.

"You came to take it from me, didn't you?" He asked coldly, eyes fixated on her and dancing in the torchlight.

"Take what?" Mel replied between shallow breaths.

"I think you know exactly what." He replied, reaching into his clothes. "You came for this."

If she could gasp without her injured side sending her into a coughing fit, she would have. Even beneath the dim light of his torch, Meliadoul recognized the sigil etched onto the stone.

"Taurus." She said quietly, her gaze darting to meet his.

"So, did Delacroix sent you to simply steal the stone, or were you ordered to kill me as well?"

"The Cardinal?" Mel asked, confused. "I'm not a soldier a Lionel. I'm a Templar, from Murond."

"So you say. Why have you come to Zaland?"

"My business is none of your concern."

Meliadoul expected a blow to come, but was surprised as the man's meaty fingers slipped around her throat. His grip was like a vice as he lifted her bodily from the stone floor, hoisting the woman above his head as though she weighed no more than a child. Coughing, Mel was slammed roughly against the wall, pinned back as the large man stared coldly up at her. How someone so obviously unfit could be so strong shocked her, as she struggled to maintain what breath she had.

The sound of the door opening once more filtered dimly through her consciousness, as she struggled against the man's hold on her neck. Darkness began to creep into her vision, distorting the scene as a second man came into the room. Even through the haze she recognized Gafgarion, and her heart fell slightly.

"Mind setting your wench down, so we may talk?" The mercenary asked, cocking his head to the side.

"I can speak fine like this."

"True, but her squirming is a distraction, especially those legs."

Her captor glanced down at the exposed flesh on Meliadoul's thighs, a look of revulsion touching his hardened features, before he let her fall. Mel hit the wall hard, bouncing to the floor, and collapsed in a coughing heap. Her throat burned and her skull and ribs ached, but she held onto consciousness.

"Thank you Rudvich." Gafgarion said coyly, crossing his arms. "The Cardinel wishes to know if you've recovered the stone from the machinists yet. He's becoming more anxious with each day."

"No," The man replied angrily. "I have not. If Delacroix desires it so, he is more than welcome to come and find it."

"I shall tell him that then." Gafgarion replied, shrugging.

"Please do."

As the dark knight turned to leave, darkness slowly overcame Meliadoul, and she slept.

* * *

Izlude leaned against the south wall of the fort, his gaze falling across the expanse before him. It wouldn't be long until the sun set, marking yet another day gone with no sign of his friend or sister. He had half a mind to gather the Blades and send out a search party. The Nanten wouldn't be so keen on that, but he had no doubt the men would do it.

It had been a mistake to let Meliadoul go. He knew it then as he did now, but there was never any discussion when it came to his sister. He'd planned on leaving himself, after Ramza had gone after the man. There was no way he was going to let his friend run off alone into what was certainly a trap. Ramza hadn't been thinking clearly and ordered Izlude to remain at Bethla, but he wasn't one to follow obviously stupid orders.

Mel, of course, insisted on the same. His place was in the fort, she explained, but she was free to go wherever she pleased. It was only out of concern for Ramza that he let her leave, but as the days passed he was growing more and more worried. One if not both of them should have been back by now, and he was beginning to fear for the worst.

"Are you Izlude Tingel?"

Izlude turned slightly toward the woman's voice, and all his worries were momentarily dispelled. She was of noble stock, by her soft spoken manner and dress, which was not uncommon to see. High class citizens often passed through Bethla on the way to Zeltennia, usually just to admire the greatest fortress in Ivalice. This girl, out of all those Izlude had seen before, was by far the most beautiful.

"I am." Izlude said quietly, trying not to stare, and failing at it. "Can I, erm, help you?"

"I need you to come with me. Right away."

She was a daughter of the sun, her hair smooth and golden, and seemed to hold its waning light in preparation for the coming darkness. Her face was somber, her mouth a line of concern, and Izlude's mind immediately jumped back to his previous thoughts.

"What happened?"

"Your sister is being held in the fort city of Zaland. If we leave now, we can make it there by the time Ramza does."

If he hadn't been leaning against the wall, Izlude may have stumbled at the emotional blow. Mel was in danger, and it was his fault. Shaking his head to clear it, he stepped away from the wall, taking a deep breath to steel himself.

"Who is responsible?"

"A man by the name of Bart, I believe. My brother didn't give me many details. He just sent me here and said to find you as quickly as possible."

"Your brother?"

"Yes," The girl said, taking his hand in exasperation and dragging him with her. "My name is Alma."

* * *

By her best guess it had been two days, but she couldn't be sure. Without the sun it was difficult to mark the passage of time, and she was uncertain how much of it she had spent unconscious on the stone floor of the dungeon. When she had awoken she'd been unshackled and a thin wool blanket had been placed in her room. Small comforts, coupled with the terrible rations she was given, but it was enough sustain her.

Meliadoul wasn't sure why she was being kept alive at all. The man, Rudvich, obviously had no fear of God and no qualms about killing her. He'd almost done so easily with one hand, and hadn't even blinked. As time passed and nobody spoke to her, she thought less and less of her own predicament. Oddly, she found her mind drifting toward the Beoulve.

No doubt he was dead. The arrival of Gafgarion sealed that to her. She had no reason to grieve for the man. Hell, she barely knew him. Yet she felt somewhat saddened by his departure from the world. There was simply something about the knight that kept her thoughts gravitating toward him, but she attributed it mostly to Izlude's complete trust and faith in him. She didn't know what Ramza had done to make her brother look up to him so, but it must have been great. Izlude didn't idolize anyone, not even her.

A shuffling, grinding sound broke her reverie, and Meliadoul scrambled into a defensive crouch. The noise was too loud to be a rat scrabbling along the stone, and it was constant. Whatever was making the sound was deliberate and with purpose, and it was a few moments longer until she realized what it was. Not far from her a piece of the wall broke free, falling to the floor with a dull thud.

Meliadoul remained silent, her ears perked for any more of the grinding, but it didn't come. After several long moments, unable to keep from doing so any longer, she coughed painfully, gripping her injured side.

"Are you awake?"

The voice made her jump, and she thought for a minute someone had crept into her room the last time she had slept. It was muted however, not coming from anywhere near her.

"Over here."

Following the voice, she felt her way through the darkness, finding the chunk of stone with her fingertips. She then realized that someone in the room next to her had worked at the wall for some time, finally punching a hole through to join the two chambers.

"Yes." Meliadoul said warily.

"Excellent!" The male voice returned, cracking slightly. "I'd hoped you were. I hadn't heard anything from there for some days now, and was worried you might have… well… you know."

"Still alive." She replied drily. "Whatever comfort that gives me."

"There are worse things than this, believe me." The young man said with a hollow chuckle. "I'm Mustadio."

"Meliadoul Tingel, of the Murond Temple Knights."

"Really? A Templar? What are you doing here?"

"If I knew, I'd be happy to tell you." Mel said sarcastically, wrapping the blanket around her and sitting next to the hole.

There was a long silence, and for a moment Mel could almost imagine she'd made up the conversation. It seemed likely for her mind, in its muddled state, to be capable of doing just that.

"Did you have one of the stones?"

She felt her head snap toward the opening, fast enough it left her vision swimming and head throbbing. How did this boy know about the holy stones, and why would he even ask such a thing?

"You did, didn't you? That's why Bart's keeping you alive. He probably wants to know where you got it."

"I didn't say I had one of your stones."

"You did." He replied with conviction. "It makes sense. He took Taurus from me, and now he has yours. Great."

"Where did _you_ steal the Taurus stone from? Those are meant to be in the possession of the Templars."

"Listen lady, I've never stolen anything." He replied, somewhat annoyed. "We found that infernal rock beneath Goug. I had no idea it could do… what it did."

"What do you mean?" Mel asked, intrigued. "It's a holy symbol; A token to the Shrine Knights in reward for our faith."

"If you believe that, then there's a lot you don't know."

"Enlighten me then."

"You saw it yourself in Rudvich."

Meliadoul considered that for a moment, resting her head wearily against the wall. He must have been referring to the man's inhuman strength, but it made no sense to her. The auracite wasn't some kind of magical augmentation. It was simply a holy stone, passed down from the days of St. Ajora. It was a symbol and nothing more.

"He's not human." Mustadio said casually. "Then again he never had much humanity to begin with."

"What do you mean?"

"Taurus. It changed him. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes."

"Impossible. It's just a stone."

"Say what you will, my dear ignorant Templar, but I _saw_ it. He's a demon, or some sort of vile creature."

Mel opened her mouth to continue arguing with the man, but a loud crash above stopped her. Chips of stone fell to the floor around her, and it sounded as though the building they were inside had just gone under siege, though that was impossible. Frowning, she leaned forward, ears cocked for further disturbances. Shouts reached her from outside of the room, and she recognized the sound of Rudvich's voice before he reached her door.

The massive door flew inward, slamming into the stone wall hard enough to crack it, as Bart stormed into the room. His gaze was feverish and full of purpose as it locked onto her, and in three long strides the man reached her.

"You infernal wench." He said coldly, thick fingers grabbing Mel roughly by the hair. "I know you're behind this."

Rudvich jerked Mel roughly to her feet, before grabbing the back of her wool tunic and literally dragging her backward toward the door. She heard Mustadio shout something after her, but couldn't make out the words. Her mind was dominated by thoughts of death, as surely that's where she was being towed toward.

* * *

It was obvious right away that the Bart Trading Company had never faced real opposition. Their enforcers and guards were poorly trained, badly equipped, and had likely never seen a fight where they didn't already have the advantage. Ramza and Izlude took them apart.

Side by side the two knights fought their way through the large structure, cutting down every man that came within sword's length. Bart's headquarters appeared to be an old outpost from the days when Lionel soldiers still bothered to station within Zaland. It was in rather serious disrepair, but it wasn't likely the company of brigands that now took up residence cared much for housekeeping.

Slamming the pommel of his sword into a thief's nose, Ramza pitched the man backward onto the floor, and strode quickly over his unconscious form. No doubt their attack had reached Rudvich now, and he would gather what men he had left to take them out. Time was of the essence.

Izlude jogged ahead, cutting another man to the quick in two swift slashes, and kicked open a heavy oak door. Ramza had never seen his friend fight with such disregard for human life, but understood completely where his bloodlust came from. This, in both of their eyes, was justice more than vengeance, and it was definitely due.

Both Blades slipped into the room, and what they saw brought them to a jerking stop. The man in front of them didn't look imposing by any means, but he radiated a hate that seemed to fill the entire room. Their eyes didn't linger on him, however, instead falling to the woman at his feet.

Meliadoul lay dazed on the ground, all pretense of modesty stripped from her as she was left in only a tattered shift. Bruises and contusions were easily visible on her legs and arms, even from a distance, and Ramza felt anger spiking within him. Relief followed it shortly, at the mere fact she was still breathing and didn't appear seriously wounded.

"You're here for her, aren't you?" Bart asked, his voice laced with unchecked rage. "Here to take it from me."

Ramza said nothing, but slowly inched his way toward them. Izlude remained shocked behind him, visibly shaking as his friend tried to keep Rudvich's attention off of Mel. If he could draw the man to him instead, he might completely forget the injured woman at his mercy.

"If you want it so badly… you should be willing to die for it!"

Instantly the atmosphere in the room changed, the torches lining the chamber dimming as their flames seemed to reach toward the man. Ramza crouched defensively, keeping his sword pointed down but at the ready. He was prepared for some kind of attack, but what happened next he could have never expected.

Rudvich began to change, tendrils of darkness leaping out of him only to roll and coil through the air and shoot back into his chest and arms. Bones popped and sinew stretched, as his body rapidly reformed into something sinister. His bulk shifted, quickly forming hard packed muscle covered with a light brown fur. His legs and arms became elongated, the joints popping as they reversed position. He rose another foot in height in but a moment.

The man's eyes kept Ramza frozen. Dark and unfathomable, with a touch of crimson deep within, they emanated such pure malevolence that it was almost staggering. Fur continued to sprout across his body as clothes tore off his form, and two thick horns, much like a bulls, ripped through the flesh on either side of his forehead. With a final snap and a wave of dark energy, the transformation was complete, and what stood before them was nothing short of a demon.

"So take it if you can!" He screamed, his voice cracked and visceral.

Long digits snapped down, grasping the back of Meliadoul's neck and tossing her aside as though she weighed nothing at all. As the woman's still form skittered across the floor and into the wall, the beast charged. With a sharp cry Izlude, enraged by the attack on his sister, ran right past Ramza.

The Captain of the Blades fell in step right behind his friend, pushing down his justified fears to confront the monstrosity. Izlude, despite his anger, at least remained aware of his training, dropping and rolling to avoid a powerful swipe of Rudvich's clawed hand. Using that as a distraction Ramza feinted, darting to the side and cutting deep into the beast's leg, moving behind it.

He was rewarded with a roar of pain and rage, as the monster swung to meet him. Izlude was on his feet at the same instant, diving ahead to slash at its side and missing. The battle felt unreal, as the two knights weaved their attacks together to attempt to keep the beast off balance. They maintained the pace for several long minutes, slowly wearing down Rudvich with quick cuts to its legs, sides, and back.

Then, potential disaster. Izlude overextended himself, slipping in to attempt a killing blow, and the beast was ready for it. It took a small cut across its stomach as it bent at the waist, driving one of the thick horns downward and into Izlude. At the last moment Ramza slammed his hip into his friend, turning what might have been a fatal wound into a glancing one that dug into Izlude's shoulder, through his armor.

Both knights hit the floor, rolling away from stomping hooves and quickly jumping to their feet. Izlude crouched behind the demon, favoring his injured shoulder and panting wildly. Ramza could see that they wouldn't be able to win by attrition, as the creature seemed to have unlimited reserves of stamina. They had to kill it quickly, before they became too tired to make the killing strike.

Gripping his sword with both hands, Ramza charged right into Rudvich's reach. The demon didn't expect such bravery and desperation, and roared in defiance as it opened both arms to receive Ramza and crush him. The creature had failed to remember that Izlude was still quite capable of causing it harm.

An instant before its grip could close on Ramza, Izlude leapt against its blood saturated back, thrusting his sword deep into Rudvich, beneath the ribs. The demon faltered, stumbling, and Ramza drove his blade home. The sword sank to the hilt in the creatures stomach, propelled by all the strength Ramza could muster, steel grinding against steel as the two swords met within its body.

Ramza staggered back as the beast sank to its knees, elongated fingers wrapping around the sword in its gut, and began to pull. Ramza growled in frustration, drawing the long dagger from his hip, and charged ahead once more. He slammed the small blade into Rudvich's neck with enough force to send an ache through his shoulder, as thick black blood poured out of the multiple wounds.

"No… you can't… have it…" Bart wheezed, as Ramza felt some energy drawing him toward the beast.

Rudvich imploded, his body folding in on itself in a split second with enough force to displace the air on the room, almost knocking Ramza to the floor. A loud thud was issued as the heavy stones fell from the air, bouncing once upon the ground at his feet. Ramza glanced over, seeing that Izlude was already scrambling over to his sister, and snatched both Taurus and Sagittarius up, stowing them away.

When he reached the woman Izlude already had her head propped up on her lap, and was listening to her breathing. Ramza stood, feeling awkward, as he waited for his friend to speak. Izlude was still shaking somewhat, blood seeping from the hole in his shoulder, and after a long moment he looked up.

"I… can't carry her. Not with my injury."

Ramza reached down, resting his hand on the man's shoulder before he knelt next to him. He quickly looked over Mel, and saw no obvious broken bones, though the bruises along her side where the shift had torn didn't look good. Izlude slid out of the way, and Ramza gently slipped his arms underneath the woman's still form. She was surprisingly light, even in the aftermath of his adrenaline rush, but Ramza knew he couldn't carry her for long before he grew tired.

"Her affects." He said calmly. "They probably kept them where she was locked up."

"I'll find them." Izlude said with a solemn nod, touching his sister's hand gently. "Get her out of here."

Ramza waited until Izlude left before he sighed, letting his head fall wearily to the woman's shoulder as he stood in the middle of the room. As he took a moment to catch his breath, he was mildly surprised to find Meliadoul's arms wrap around his neck, clinging to him tightly. He glanced at her face to see she was still unconscious, and strode out of the room.

"You spared my life, and I gave you hers." Gafgarion said behind him, and Ramza turned to glance back. "I believe that makes us square."

"Indeed." He replied quietly. "In fact it puts you ahead one. This wasn't part of our arrangement, and she means nothing to you, so why did you help me?"

"I'm a mercenary, boy, not a monster. I didn't sign up for this."

"I see." Ramza said, glancing down at the woman in his arms. "What of the stone?"

"Keep it." Gafgarion said, shrugging. "I'll take it from you when next we meet, young Beoulve."

Ramza nodded slowly, carefully adjusting Meliadoul in his arms, and walked away from the Touten.

* * *

Meliadoul woke with warmth on her face, and struggled for a moment to see where she was. The fire a short distance away gradually appeared in her blurred vision, and she attempted to sit up. Pain shot up her entire body, and the woman groaned, falling back against the rolled up blanket beneath her head. She was wrapped tightly in another, and quickly realized she was outside.

"Try not to move, you'll aggravate your injuries."

Mel let her head roll in the direction of the voice, to find Ramza sitting next to her. He reached over to place the back of his hand against her forehead, as she slowly tried to recall what had happened. She remembered Izlude and Ramza, and the room growing cold. After that was darkness, and then someone was carrying her, and she recalled the scent of her savior. Other than that she had no idea where she was, or how far from the city they were.

"You don't have a fever." Ramza said gently. "But you still need a lot of rest."

"Izlude?" She asked, her voice hoarse. "Is he okay?"

"He went off to gather some food, he'll be back shortly."

Meliadoul closed her eyes, and when she opened them Ramza was digging quietly through his pack, so she assumed she passed out again. She sighed audibly, and the knight glanced over at her, a look of concern touching his features. It annoyed her to be looked at in such a way, but at the same time it wasn't an unpleasant feeling.

"Mel? You're awake?" Izlude asked, dropping to his knees next to her.

"Hot." She said, shaking her head, and immediately her brother pulled the blanket off of her chest.

Mel glanced down, noting that someone had changed her clothes, dressing her in a clean and comfortable cotton shift. Further annoyed that her brother, and it damn well better have been Izlude, had to help her dress, she sat up slowly. Leaning on her elbows, she found it was easier now to move, as Izlude handed her a small pouch of water.

"Hey! You're up!" The shouted voice from behind her caused Mel to choke on the water, and Izlude began patting her back gently.

"Take it easy idiot! She's still in rough shape." Her brother warned, as Mustadio came into view.

"Sorry," He said with a sly smile, dropping to a seat not far off. "I'm glad you're awake. It was pretty touch and go for a couple days there."

"Excuse me? A couple _days_?" Mel asked, her gaze darting between them.

"Yes, well, it's been slow going what with your injuries and all." Izlude explained. "Alma, Ramza's sister, has been patching you up best she can. She also found you some fresh clothes."

"Your sister?" She asked, her mind jumping from one thought to the next as she looked over at Ramza. "I should like to thank her."

"She and Mustadio's father, Besrodio, went ahead of us to Bethla, to fill in Delita and the Count of what happened."

Mel nodded slowly, her gaze locked onto Ramza. The Beoulve looked back at her, his eyes speaking volumes. He knew what she was going to ask, and was telling her without a word to keep it to herself for now. Apparently he hadn't told Izlude or Mustadio about the dark knight, or how both he and Gafgarion were alive. She debated on bringing it up anyway, just to spite the sneak, but thought better of it. He _had_ saved her life, after all.

"How far are we from the fort?" She asked casually, taking another long drink.

"We should reach it by mid day tomorrow. It'll go faster now that you're… awake." Ramza said, slipping to his feet and rolling another log onto the fire before walking off.

It wasn't until then that Mel noticed what shape both Izlude and Mustadio were in. Her brother's arm and shoulder were wrapped closely to his body, and Mustadio was covered with abrasions and bruises, the result of his imprisonment.

"He hasn't slept much." Mustadio mused, his eyes following the blonde Beoulve.

"Hasn't he?" Meliadoul asked, savoring the cool water on her lips.

"Of course he won't say as much, but almost every time I wake up he's just sitting there, staring at the fire. He _has_ to be exhausted." Izlude supplied, sighing. "Since Alma and Besrodio took the chocobos yesterday, he had to carry you."

Meliadoul was thankful the fire was low, so they couldn't see the slight flush that touched her cheeks. She disliked the idea of being helpless, ever, especially to a man. Mel had worked hard her entire life to be on equal footing with any male knight, and refused to be the helpless damsel.

"What's wrong with him?" She asked casually.

"I'm not sure. Part of it is that he is worried about Alma traveling away from him, but she wouldn't take no for an answer. Someone needed to go with Besrodio, and I wasn't in any shape to do it. There's something else though. I can't figure out what it is, but something is definitely on his mind."

Letting her head fall back onto the blanket, she adjusted her bedclothes, and ran fingers through her tangled hair. She could guess what was on his mind, if he and Gafgarion had met and not killed each other. The same thing was in the back of her thoughts.

"He's probably fine. If he doesn't want to enjoy a wonderful night of sleep, that's his loss." Mustadio said with a grin, dropping onto his bedroll and rolling away.

Izlude laughed, smiling down at Meliadoul before he too curled up to sleep. Mel lay in silence, eyes closed, until long after both of the men slept. She was dead tired, and knew she needed rest, but she wasn't ready just yet. Not until Ramza came back.

It was nearly an hour before the Beoulve returned, stoking the fire quietly. Staring at him as he worked with the flames, Mel worked up the courage to speak. It wasn't often she found herself thanking anyone, and pride was always one of the most difficult downfalls to overcome. After only a couple of minutes she finally spoke.

"Ramza."

At the sound of her voice, the young knight's gaze fell on Mel, cool and distant. He seemed to be expecting her to wait up for him, and he also didn't look like he wanted to hear what she had to say.

"Thank you." She said softly, the blanket wrapped around her shoulders. "If you and Izlude hadn't come when you did…"

Ramza looked a little embarrassed and surprised. No doubt he had been expecting Meliadoul, true to her blunt nature, to come right out and confront him.

"It's nothing." He replied dismissively, preparing his bedroll. "Get some sleep. We're starting out early in the morning tomorrow."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Edit: I know that the entire chapter seems to come from left field, with a rather strange unexplained gap in the events. This is actually intentional, and not a series of holes. The questions about Ramza's whereabouts and relationship with Gafgarion, Meliadoul's capture, and Alma's inclusion into the story are all designed to be answered. Most of them in the following chapter. It was designed simply to make you wonder just what the hell is going on, and where all these seeming random events came from, and how they managed to fit together. There's not a missing chapter or holes that aren't there intentionally.

This is not the original Chapter Nine. My current semi-beta-reader told me he'd be busy lately, so it's only had my eyes to check for any errors, and I apologize if I miss anything. I had written something completely different, polished it off, and then read my reviews again. I realized that having Izlude sit idly by at Bethla was seriously out of character for him as I'd made him so far, and from that thought stemmed an entire new direction for the next chapter. That's one of the great things about reviewers looking over my work. It shows me a perspective I may have missed, and opens up my mind to different possibilities. Kinda like Inception, without the father issues.

I'm finally touching on some of the events that have, so far, been skipped. Such as the introduction of the Holy Stones and a little side-story of what happened to Mustadio since Ramza never kept Bart Company from getting him. Still some mystery surrounding what in the hell Ramza was doing with Gafgarion, and how he knew about the auracite at all. You're more than welcome to theorycraft about it, and I encourage that. The reviews with thoughts about the direction it could go can always give me new ideas, and I love that.

Thanks for reading and reviewing. When I have a night at work where I'm not half asleep at the PC, I'll start going through and fixing mistakes in previous chapters.


	10. Trust and Faith

**Chapter Ten: Trust and Faith**

* * *

Olan was late, of course, but it couldn't be helped. Tucking the parchment into the thick book in his hand, he shrugged past a small group of soldiers, ignoring the annoyed hiss one sent his way as he pushed past. If they'd known who he really was, they'd probably respect him a lot more. Such was the result of seldom actually working alongside the other Southern Sky troops.

As one of the Nanten Investigators, he was forced into a deal of secrecy. Few people, even in his own ranks, knew of his relation to the renowned Thunder God, and even fewer knew what his real mission was. Smiling silently at himself, the young Astronomer opened the heavy chamber door, almost dropping his papers in the process.

Orlandu was already seated across from the knight in question, and he nodded to his adoptive son, motioning to a chair. Olan took his seat directly across from the young Beoulve. Silence reigned in the room and Olan took a moment to look over Ramza, impressed with his calm air.

"Ramza Beoulve." He said, clearing his throat. "Do you know why you've been called here?"

The Captain nodded shallowly, cool hazel eyes locked onto Olan, his hands clasped on the table in front of him.

"Good, it saves me the trouble of explaining." Olan said with a small smile. "So please, briefly describe for me what forced you to abandon your duties and set off for Zaland."

Ramza sat silently for a moment, deep in thought. He looked like hell. Deep circles had formed under his eyes, from a lack of sleep and physical weariness, yet he seemed rather composed. This meeting had been called not a moment after he had returned, while the others in his party received medical attention.

"A man came here, to the garrison, with a message from my brothers."

"Who was this man?" Olan said quickly, cutting him off.

"His name was Gafgarion."

"The Touten?" Orlandu asked, his brow furrowing.

"Yes."

"I fought with him in the fifty-year-war. I believed him to be dead."

"He's very much alive, and in the employ of the Northern Sky."

"Very well," Cid replied dismissively. "Continue."

"Gafgarion told me I was to come to the Golgorand Gallows, alone, or the price to be paid would be my sister's life."

"Your sister, Lady Alma, correct?" Olan asked, not bothering to wait for a response. "Why didn't you report this?"

"Why would I? Alma was not of the Southern Sky, and was of no concern of the Nanten. I had to act immediately, on peril of her life."

"That was when you left alone?"

"Yes. I set out to the execution site, by myself. Gafgarion was waiting for me."

"Of course he was." Olan said. "It was obviously a trap."

"Even so, I had to go." Ramza said, sighing. "My brothers wished to have me captured, though I'm surprised they didn't _actually_ use my sister against me. She remained at Orbonne Monastery, where she often studied."

"So you escaped from the Touten?"

"We fought, I won."

Olan felt his head snap back slightly. He hadn't expected to hear that. From what he'd heard of the Beoulve he was a capable leader with some experience, but to think he was on par with a veteran Dark Knight was something of a shock. Olan frowned, glancing over at Cid's stoic countenance, before he continued.

"Did you kill him?"

"No." Ramza said, a hint of pride touching his voice. "I offered him quarter, and he left without incident."

"Strange." Cid interjected. "That doesn't sound like the Gaff I remember."

"After that," Olan continued. "You set off for Orbonne?"

"I did. I had to be sure Alma was safe, and it was there that Gafgarion met me once more. He told me that a Templar had been captured in Zaland, and that it was Meliadoul Tingel."

"Why did he decide to tell you, an enemy, about her?"

"He knew that she was working with the Nanten, and sought to repay me for sparing his life."

There was truth in his words, but Olan could sense there were details missing. The knight was definitely holding something back. Olan decided not to pursue the matter, as he doubted he would be able to get much more out of him on the subject.

"I left for Zaland immediately, and Alma made for the garrison to tell Izlude what was happening. I knew that I wouldn't be able to rescue Lady Tingel alone, and ordered him to help me. I take full responsibility.

"No doubt he would have gone without your orders." Orlandu noted.

"Likely he would have, but I saved him the choice."

"Tell me about that, the rescue." Olan said calmly, tracing a finger over the tome in front of him.

"It was simple enough. We went in, met some resistance from the Bart Trading Company, who had taken her, and got her out. We also rescued Mustadio Bunanza, who was also a prisoner of theirs."

Olan shot a look at his father, seeing his own thoughts mirrored in the older man. They remained silent for a long moment, before Olan finally spoke.

"Ramza," He began casually, looking down at his parchments. "What do you know of stones?"

There was a long pause, as the man stared over at him, a blank look on his face. Either he had no idea what Olan was talking about, or he was very good at keeping his emotions hidden.

"Not much I'm afraid. I can throw one rather accurately, but that's about it." He said finally, frowning and glancing at Orlandu. "Are the others doing well Cid? I should like to check on them."

Olan glared over at the knight, leaning forward. This boy had the audacity, after what he had just done, to become informal with the General of the entire Southern Sky?

"Captain Beoulve," Olan said pointedly. "Do you understand how serious your actions are? You went against your standing orders, and attacked civilians in a free city with no proved provocation. You could be tried and executed for this!"

Ramza said nothing. He simply stared over at Cid, his face calm and his manner unassuming. Olan quickly felt his anger slip away, for he was never one to hold to it, and wondered just what the young knight was thinking. This was a very serious inquiry, and he seemed to care for the others that had returned with him over his own well-being.

"The Hokuten are gathering to the north, near Gulofavia Valley." Orlandu said casually. "We're marching out to meet them in the morning. Are your Blades combat ready?"

"Aside from Izlude," Ramza replied instantly. "We can leave at first light, if you wish it."

Olan glanced over at Cid, confused. Did his father hold so much stock in this boy that he would leave him in command of his soldiers even after he had so blatantly disregarded orders? There had to be something Olan was missing.

"I'll have orders sent to your quarters. You may leave now."

The Beoulve stood, pushing his chair back in and making his way to the door. He paused there, glancing back at them.

"What of the machinists and my sister?"

"Mustadio and Besrodio are free to return to Goug whenever they wish. I have already drafted an escort for them. As for Lady Alma, that is entirely up to her. She may remain here as a ward of the Southern Sky until the war is over, or I can have her escorted back to Orbonne as well."

"I believe she will want to stay here, for now. Thank you." Ramza said finally, before slipping out of the door.

The door had hardly swung shut before Olan turned to Cid, tossing his hands up in desperation.

"Father, what was _that_ all about?"

"He knows something." Orlandu said quietly. "We already suspected Bart Company was working alongside the Cardinal. Ramza, now, knows as well."

"The man hardly blinked when I mentioned the Holy Stones."

"As long as Ramza has been in the service of the Southern Sky, he has never called me by my first name. I think, my boy, he doesn't trust you."

"Trust _me_? He's the one who is acting irrationally!"

"He acts as I expect any man would, when those he loved were in danger."

"I suppose." Olan agreed grudgingly, leaning back in his chair.

"Do you still talk to your girlfriend in Murond?"

"Valmafra isn't my girlfriend, as I've said a dozen times."

"Oh, that's a pity. She's quite the rare flower."

"You're a perverted old codger, did you know that?"

"Meet with her." Cid ordered, his face serious. "See if she has heard anything about Zaland."

"Do you think Ramza learned that much there?"

"I believe he may know more than we do, at this point."

* * *

Clutching his shoulder, cursing, Wiegraf stumbled into the alley. His face was slick with sweat and his hair soaked with the falling rain. Leaning against the wall, he gripped the shaft of the wood imbedded in his shoulder, and snapped it. The arrow had thankfully missed its mark, but it still hurt plenty and slowed him down. He pushed on, trudging through the mud and water as his pursuers closed the gap.

He ducked into another side street as lightning flashed through the night sky. He knew he was heading into a dead end, but had nowhere else to go. The Northern Sky wouldn't ever stop searching for him, and he was tired of running. So the knight turned, his back to the wall, and drew his sword. If he was going to die, he was going to take as many of them with him as he could.

Panting, adjusting his grip on the wet hilt of his blade, he watched as the Hokuten slipped into the alley. There were four of them left of the six that had attacked him, and as good as Wiegraf was with a sword, he knew he couldn't escape this. He wasn't even sure he wanted to any longer. The man had spent too long running, living on the fringe, waiting for the world to forget about him. Fate was not kind to the Folles family, and he accepted that, though he hated having to meet Miluda without being able to avenge her.

"Come on then, you bastards!" He cried out, raising his sword.

He heard the sound of a bowstring being drawn taut, saw the archer aim at him, and then he didn't know what was happening. An explosion of light and sound illuminated the darkness, forcing Wiegraf to shield his eyes, and when he looked again the archer fell in a heap. The remaining Hokuten, panicked and with weapons drawn, were unable to find their attacker before they died. Several more holy sword strikes cut them down in a moment, and Wiegraf back against the wall.

_St. Konoe Knights, here? But why would the Northern Sky fall on itself?_

"I always hated Dorter." A man said as he stepped out of the darkness. "It's so filthy here."

Wiegraf recognized the robes immediately, and kept his sword at the ready. Shrine Knights had no business this far north, and seeing one here made him even more wary. The man in the blue Templar robe sheathed his blade, glancing at the scattered corpses around him, before he walked toward Wiegraf.

"I must say Lord Folles, you're quite the difficult one to track down."

"What do you want?" Wiegraf snarled, keeping his blade up.

"Straight to the point. I like that." He replied, a dark smile touching his lips. "What we want is you."

* * *

As days turned into weeks, Meliadoul found she was useless as a representative of Murond. It was clear immediately after the Nanten victory at Gulofavia that the Southern Sky had no interest in peace. The Hokuten were pushed back to Lesalia, where they held firm. There would be no surprise attack on the Capital now, with at least half Larg's forces entrenched within it.

Rumor was another army, nearly as large as the one garrisoned there, marched toward Bethla. The Northern Sky was far from out of the fight, and despite the famine that was ravaging both sides of the conflict no peace talks were set into motion. Mel could see the frustration in the faces of the Nanten throughout the fort, heard the whispers of dissention all around. There was talk that Count Orlandu himself was growing weary of the war, and had been reprimanded for his words against it.

Unless one of the two armies broke soon, they would starve themselves into a stalemate that would leave them vulnerable to outside attack. The Lion War was killing Ivalice, despite the Church's best attempts to find a solution. Distantly Mel wondered if her father was faring even a little better with Larg, but judging from the ferocity with which the Hokuten troops fought, she doubted it.

Her frustration was increased tenfold with Izlude's absence. He and Ramza were gone more often than not; diving behind enemy lines over and over again to disrupt their movement. It was obvious they were successful, but the missions were becoming more difficult as the Hokuten learned to expect their raids. Each time they left, Meliadoul was more concerned for her brother.

She'd barely spoken with Ramza since the day they had returned to Bethla, and the knight seemed to have an uncanny knack for avoiding her. He made sure that there was never a chance for them to be alone together, and he never lingered with her in conversation. Mel knew he was avoiding the inevitable questions she had for him, and it was grating on her nerves.

The only thing keeping her from confronting him openly in front of everyone was that Ramza, true to his word, kept Izlude safe. The Captain would come back in worse shape after every attack, perhaps because he was giving her brother less dangerous assignments.

That morning, when Meliadoul had woken, she found the Sagittarius Stone sitting next to her bed. Ramza had crept into her room and left it for her, and that alone had forced her hand. She could no longer ignore the situation, ignore her duty as a Templar, out of respect for the man.

She knew the Blades were heading out on a late night raid, and now was as good a time as ever to confront him. So she stood not far from his chambers, leaning against the stone wall with arms crossed, and waited. It wasn't long before Ramza, dressed for battle, slipped out of his room. The Beoulve barely glanced at her as he approached, but Meliadoul moved right in front of him.

"Where is Taurus?"

Ramza said nothing. He simply stared at her for a long moment, his eyes searching hers. For what, she couldn't say. The silence dragged on, before Ramza finally walked right past her. Mel felt her anger spike as the man ignored her, and she rounded on him.

"Don't you walk away from me Ramza!" Meliadoul shouted, grabbing his breastplate and forcing him to face her.

"You can't have it." He said simply, his expression cool.

"The hell I can't." She shot back. "Those stones are meant to be in the protection of the Templarate."

"You have Sagittarius. Leave this alone." Ramza said, his calm slowly cracking.

"No. If you won't give it up, I'll take it by force."

She hadn't been prepared for his speed. Before she could blink, Ramza shoved her backward so fast her hood slipped from her head, and he pinned her arms against the wall with his hands. Chest to chest, his face so close she could feel his breath on her cheek, she finally saw Ramza Beoulve's anger.

They stood in silence for a long moment, the tension in the air thick, as his eyes searched hers again. She glared back at him, realizing just how much strength the young man held in his slim form. Meliadoul hadn't seen what he was capable of, this slayer of demons, but Izlude had told her, and now she could see the part of him he held back; The face none saw.

Without thinking, without even realizing what she was doing, she leaned into Ramza, and kissed him. She expected him to pull back, to release her and step away, but he didn't. If anything the man pressed against her, returning the gesture in kind. Mel jerked her arms free from his grip, slipping slender fingers into the gap in his chest piece, and pulled Ramza even harder against her.

She felt his hands slide across her back, practically crushing her against his armored chest in this unexpected moment of passion. Their lips separated only to come back together again and again, neither willing to break contact but both knowing it shouldn't be happening in the first place. After several long moments, Ramza finally broke free, his breath still hot on her lips, and stumbled back. They stood in shocked silence, both breathing heavily.

_What the hell was that? I didn't come up here for him. I came for the damn stone!_

Meliadoul knew she was lying to herself, and hated that she couldn't even depend on self deception to justify herself. She hadn't kissed him to try and coax him into giving up Taurus. She hadn't even thought of trying that. It hadn't been the stone that had driven her to come to him, and distantly Mel wondered if it had ever been the stone she wanted, or the man carrying it.

"In my room." Ramza said finally, running one hand through blonde hair.

"Ha!" Mel replied with a sharp laugh. "What kind of woman do you take me for?"

He glanced sideways at her, a small smile touching his lips. The knight palmed something out of his armor, and turned to her. Ramza got so close that she swore he was going to kiss her again, her heart jumping into her throat for a moment. Instead he took her hand in his, slipped something into it, and closed her fingers.

"The chest next to the bed. Show no one else. When you're done, go and see my sister. She'll explain everything."

The knight leaned down slightly, pressing his lips against her fingers, before he dropped her hand and walked away. Mel watched him go, confused, before she opened her hand. The small key fit neatly into her palm. After a final glance at Ramza, as he rounded the corner and disappeared, she walked back to his room.

She found the chest easily enough, and pulled it up onto Ramza's bed next to her. Mel opened it without hesitation, the two stones reflecting the nearby candlelight. They rested upon a rather thick tome which looked old enough to belong to St. Ajora himself, and Meliadoul felt her breath catch as she realized what the second stone was.

_Virgo? But… how? That's the keepsake of the Royal Family._

Carefully the woman moved the stones to the side, and pulled the book onto her lap. Opening it, Meliadoul was met with faded text, in a language she didn't recognize. Along the margin was more recent ink, with what seemed to be a translation.

"This is written by a follower of St. Ajora, Germonik…"

Gasping, her hand shot up to cover her lips. She knew all too well the story of Germonik, the man who betrayed Ajora to the Yudora Empire. She stared at those words for a long moment, before placing the chest back on the floor and laying the book on the bed. Meliadoul rolled onto her stomach and turned the page, eyes crawling across the ancient parchment as she soaked in Ramza's scent.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Here lies a few of the missing pieces from Chapter Nine, as originally intended. The Olan interview was a last minute change, as I originally planned to have Ramza explain to Meliadoul instead. However I felt, given Olan's position in the story and the game, this would be a good introduction point. Not everything that happened between Gafgarion and Ramza is revealed, but that sums it up. Ramza went to Orbonne, Simon gave him the scriptures and Virgo, and then he saved Mel. One thing isn't included in that, but it will be revealed in time.

I think this chapter fits, but I have this nagging feeling I'm bouncing around and being confusing. If you're lost, let me know, so I can fix things. I'm posting an edit of Chapter Nine to clear up something. Ramza's favor from Gafgarion wasn't the rescue of Mel, that was something Gafgarion chose to do on his own. Ramza asked for something else first, which is the remaining piece to be missing from Chapter Nine. You also are starting to see some of the other characters who will be making an appearance in the story, including Wiegraf and Balmafula. I'll be bouncing between PoVs in the next chapter or two, because I have plot to cover before you get to see how Bethla is going to turn out.

On a final note, I'm posing a thread for the story in the Forums in an attempt to get some people in there and give everyone the opportunity to discuss different story and plot points for all FFTactics stories. This game is way too good to _not _be discussed, right? So I encourage everyone to get over there and do some theorycrafting!


	11. Converging Paths

**Chapter Eleven: Converging Paths**

* * *

Hesitating for only a moment at the open threshold, Meliadoul leaned in, rapping her knuckles lightly against the heavy door. She'd stayed in Ramza's bed for the better part of an hour, staring at the ceiling and trying to decide what she was supposed to do. A year ago she would have set the scriptures alight and while claiming them blasphemous. Now she stood with the tome clutched to her chest, lost in a sea of questions. Distantly she wondered what had changed, and when she had lost her faith.

Alma wasn't alone at this late hour, which was a surprise. Meliadoul had almost considered waiting until morning before approaching the youngest Beoulve, but decided she wouldn't be able to sleep if she didn't talk to _someone_. Alma and the Princess turned in their seats as she stepped into the room, smiling warmly. In the span of a breath Ramza's sister saw what Mel held in her grasp, and the look of recognition was gone as soon as it had arrived.

"Can we talk more in the morning?" The girl asked, her attention back on Ovelia.

"Of course." The Princess replied curtly, nodding and excusing herself.

Meliadoul watched in mild shock as Ovelia walked out of the room, quietly wishing her good night and closing the door behind her. Mel's gaze moved from the door to the Beoulve girl, before she finally spoke.

"Did I really just see you _dismiss_ the Princess Royal?"

Alma laughed, rolling her eyes and moving from the table they had been talking at to sit at the edge of her bed. The girl was dressed for bed, and once again Mel thought she shouldn't have come so late. Crossing her legs, Alma patted the mattress next to her before folding her hands in her lap.

"Ovelia and I were just catching up." She explained. "We studied together at Orbonne Monastery a long time ago, and neither of us cared much for status."

"I see." Mel said, hesitating near the girl.

"So, Ramza finally decided to tell you."

"He didn't _tell_ me anything." Meliadoul replied, exasperated. "Wait, he was planning this before hand?"

"For weeks. It's been stressing him out not to let you in, but we weren't sure if we could trust you. Izlude wasn't sure how you would take it."

"My brother has read this?"

Alma nodded, patting the bed once more, and leaned back onto her elbows.

"We were afraid… with all the time you'd spent as a Templar, you might be inclined to disbelieve it."

"Honestly," Mel said, sighing as she sat on the bed. "I wish I could."

"So he just handed you the scriptures and went on his merry way?"

"Well, he told me I should speak with you."

"That is so like him." Alma replied, laughing lightly. "He'll avoid confrontation as much as possible."

_I don't know about that._

Clearing her head of any thoughts of the confrontation they'd had that very night, Mel let the book fall onto her lap, and stared down at it.

"Where did he even find this?"

"In Orbonne there's a priest, the same one who helped tutor Ovelia and I, his name is Simon. He had discovered scriptures some decades before, and was slowly working at translating it. After Gafgarion told Ramza what was happening in Zaland, well, Simon believed it would be better off in my dear brother's hands."

"Along with Virgo."

"Yes. He'd stowed both of them away for a long time. I really don't know why he wanted my brother to have them. Except…"

"Except what?"

"I think Simon knows Ramza, bless his meddlesome heart, won't leave something like that rest. He'll do something about it, where nobody else would."

"But what does this mean?" Mel said, ashamed at the way her tone came across as she lifted the book up. "Was everything we were taught as children a lie?"

"We're not sure." Alma said with a sigh. "We honestly don't know if the Church is aware of the lies it is built upon, or if it's ignorant of the truth."

"I just… I don't know what to think now. I wish I'd never read it."

"I know. I feel the same way, I suppose. It would be so much easier to just forget it, and you're more than welcome to if you think you can." Alma said quietly. "But Ramza won't. He won't let it go until he learns for sure what this writing means for us, and why the… Templars are after the Holy Stones."

"To safeguard them. To protect them-"

Meliadoul stopped as she recognized the practiced mantra that had slipped from her lips. She'd been told from the start that collecting the stones, guarding them, was one of the Templars most important duties. Unconsciously she reached up, her fingers finding Sagittarius tucked into her clothing.

"That's exactly what we're uncertain of. Are the Templars trying to protect the stones, or use them like Rudvich did?"

Meliadoul found she didn't have an answer for that. After seeing a glimpse of what the Taurus stone was capable of, and hearing its true power from Izlude, she didn't know what to think. Her father couldn't know of the true nature of the stones. It was unthinkable that he would be party to such evil. There were others, however, who would not carry such devotion.

"Where do I go from here?" Mel asked quietly, speaking to herself as she tugged her own holy stone free from her robe.

"That's entirely up to you." Alma said with a smile. "This knowledge is a heavy burden to bear; however Ramza would not have given you the scriptures if he didn't trust you."

"I suppose…"

"I have to ask though; what finally convinced him?"

Mel felt the blush creep up her neck, and it must have been visible in the dim candlelight, for Alma smiled slightly. The girl turned to Meliadoul, tucking her legs beneath her and placing her hands on her knees in a position of innocent curiosity.

"So he finally worked up the courage to approach you?" She asked with a small, lighthearted laugh. "It's about time. I'd just about had it with him pining after you from afar. Ramza may think he's crafty, but he's about as transparent as glass, if you know what to look for."

"Well," Meliadoul replied, suddenly nervous in a way that she didn't think she'd ever been. "That's not exactly how it happened."

"Oh?" Alma said, perplexed. "Oh! The plot thickens! Go on, I'm listening."

It was a novel experience for the Divine Knight, having such a conversation. Thinking back, she realized she'd never really talked about such things. She'd been raised around knights and in the thick of battle. Feelings and desires weren't a part of her life, and she felt ridiculous having such a talk, especially with Ramza's sister. She was a knight, not some common teenage academy girl, for Ajora's sake. Yet, at the same time, she desperately _wanted_ to talk about it, and Alma's youthful enthusiasm was infectious.

"I may have… kissed him. Just a little."

* * *

"What do you mean, just a little?" Izlude asked, his eyes narrowing.

Ramza shifted nervously next to the small fire, noting that most of the other Blades had gone silent. Their captain gallivanting around with his second-in-command's sister was worth a listen. Following the raid, Ramza had his men make camp some distance off. They would sleep through the early morning to avoid any Hokuten patrols before returning to the garrison.

"You'll have to ask her." Ramza replied guardedly. "It caught me by surprise."

"Oh so she threw herself at you, did she?" His friend replied, turning away from Ramza. "Striker, I'll need my sword back."

The young squire, who had offered to check over Izlude's equipment only moments before, looked rather intimidated to be torn between the two men. It wasn't obvious to the boy that Izlude was, for the most part, joking. Ramza shook his head, busying himself with the campfire as conversation resumed around them.

"I'll wager it wasn't even how you said." Izlude continued. "I knew it. I knew from the start you had your eyes on Mel."

Ramza half ignored him, his gaze wandering around the small camp. Many of the Blades were already asleep, and all was calm, but he couldn't shake the sneaking suspicion that something was wrong. Frowning, the Knight Blade's attention was drawn to the trees around them, a stray thought wandering into the front of his mind.

"Izlude, quiet."

"What?" His friend asked, recognizing Ramza's warning tone.

"Why hasn't our last patrol come back yet?"

The words had barely left his lips before the Knight Blades sprang to their feet. Whatever weapon was on hand was drawn, the trained Nanten too cautious to let such a lapse in protocol be taken as coincidence. None of them were late checking in, and that could only mean their scout had been intercepted.

Ramza and Izlude stood slowly, not bothering to retrieve their own blades as the squinted against the darkness. He couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, but that meant little considering that campfire had ruined his night vision. Placing the flames between himself and the perimeter of the campsite had been a squire's mistake. An entire division could be waiting just outside of the fire's light for all he knew.

"Tell your men to lower their swords, if you would." A familiar voice commanded. "I would prefer not to kill them."

Ramza felt a chill run up his spine, and after a moment he held his hand out, giving the order for them to stand down. They were hesitant to obey, unwilling to give up without a fight, just as they'd been trained. A handful of them adjusted their grip on their weapons before Ramza's stern look forced them to release their hold on their swords.

"I knew as soon as the report came in that it had to be you, and that you wouldn't have gone far." Zalbag said as he stepped into the light of the fire, hand resting on the blade hitched on his hip. The elder Beoulve kept his gaze lowered, avoiding letting his eyes fall directly on Ramza or the fire. "We've come to expect your precision raids, even if we cannot predict them."

"What are you doing this far south?" Ramza asked quietly, gaze wandering along the trees in search of the other Hokuten.

"That's not your concern, nor are you in a position to ask anything of me."

Ramza bit down on his cheek, his mind racing. Zalbag wouldn't be travelling with any normal soldiers. No doubt the men that surely surrounded them were well trained veterans, ready to destroy Ramza and his troop.

"I assume you've come for me." Ramza said. "Let my men leave here."

"I am to kill you, did you know that?" Zalbag glanced up, raising one eyebrow at his younger sibling. "Prince Larg's orders. You've caused too many problems for the Northern Sky."

"So that's why you're here, then? To spill more blood in the defense of our name?"

Zalbag sighed, pacing, and rubbed the bridge of his nose for a moment. Ramza watched him warily, aware that the survival of Izlude and the rest of his men hung in a delicate balance.

"My orders are simple." He said finally. "If I find you, I am to kill you. Say… say I never managed to track you down? Would such a small lie be treason?"

"I would call it something else, personally."

"Tell me why at least." Zalbag demanded. "Why did you turn against us?"

"Turn on you?" Ramza asked with a bitter laugh. "Are we talking about the same thing, brother? It wasn't I who ordered Teta's death. You should be asking Dycedarg that question. It's not the bastard child of Balbanes that kills kin and kidnaps royalty, as much as you wish you could pin it all on me."

"What are you talking about?"

"Teta was family, blood or not, as was Delita. You know what was done to them was wrong."

"That's not what I was talking about."

"The Princess? You mean to tell me you didn't know?" Again, Ramza laughed. "Our dear brother didn't tell you about his plot to unseat Goltana? He has played you for a fool, Zalbag."

"Mind your tongue!" Zalbag shouted, anger touching his features. "I offer you a measure of compassion, because of our father, and you repay it by slandering your own family?"

"Open your eyes! Larg wants control of Ivalice, and the only thing standing in his way is the Nanten. If you know of another man writing up Larg's plans, I might be able to believe Dycedarg was innocent."

Zalbag stared at him for a long moment, his expression torn between anger and acceptance, and after a moment he took a calming breath.

"If such a thing were true, not that I'm saying I believe you, then this entire war is our fault."

"War has always been the favored tool of the nobility." Ramza said solemnly. "Why would our family be different?"

A cool silence filled the air, as the two Beoulve's faced each other beneath the trees. Ramza held his breath, waiting for his brother to speak. He knew trying to sway Zalbag would be difficult, for he had always been the most stubborn one. Yet even as set in his ways as the man was he had to see some of the evil in this war.

"I will... consider what you have told me." He replied finally, turning away from the fire and walking away.

"Zalbag," Ramza called. "If our brother finds out you let me escape…"

"Be sure not to mention it to him then."

With that Zalbag was gone, and gradually Ramza's knights let their guard down. As Ramza turned back to the fire, he silently thanked his brother for the mercy he had shown. Deep down he had always hoped Zalbag hadn't been completely taken in by their eldest brother's madness, and it was a relief that he still was capable of making his own choices. Perhaps, when all of this was over, Ramza might once again find a home in Gallione.

* * *

The moon danced off the shimmering waves, bathing the large galleon in blue-white light as it cut through the seas, a steady wind filling its sails. Valmafra hated travel by sea, and if it had been anyone else who had asked, she wouldn't have made the trip. As it was, he would only be able to safely meet with her while traveling from Warjilis to Goug, while escorting a pair of machinists, and she needed a favor from him as well.

Wrapped in a thick woolen cloak to fight off the ocean chill, the sorceress leaned against the railing along the ship, scowling out at the water ahead of her. She heard the young man's approach over the foaming seas, and spared him only a glance as Olan sidled up next to her.

"You look displeased." He said with a sly smile.

"Knowing me as you do, you should feel privileged I agreed to this." She said coolly. "Do not press your luck."

"As you insist." He conceded, holding up his hands. "Have you been well Val?"

Valmafra was never one for idle chat, unlike the Nanten investigator. Perhaps that was one of the things she enjoyed about him, instead of something she merely tolerated. Olan was good at gleaning information and she suspected that his talkative nature was used for that purpose. It was easier to let your guard down when he spoke openly in nothings.

"Well enough, all things considered." She said, turning to face the ponytailed youth. "What is it you want?"

"So demanding." He said with an exaggerated sigh. "I had some questions perhaps you can answer."

"If I can, I will."

They both had secrets to keep, and that fact was respected. Just as Olan would not give her confidential information from the Southern Sky, Valmafra's hands were tied when it came to many subjects concerning the church. Yet out of all of her contacts Olan knew the most, from both his own deductions and her own unintentional slips.

"What do you know about stones?"

Valmafra immediately turned away from him, focusing on the ocean once more. Of all the things he could bring up, it had to be that. She should have figured he'd learn something of the Holy Stones sooner or later, and prepared herself a way to dance around the truth.

"Don't shut down on me Val." He said, leaning over to look into her face. "This is important."

"Then tell me what _you_ know."

Olan hesitated for a long moment, debating on whether or not to take her bait, before he shrugged and pressed his back against the railing.

"Not much I'm afraid. We know that someone in the church is looking for them, and some of the Templarate may already have recovered some. You'd be surprised how little people wish to speak about this."

"No, I wouldn't." She replied coyly, shooting him a look. "I'd rather not discuss it myself."

"Don't make me beg."

"As much as I think I might enjoy that after you dragged me out here, I have something else in mind. A favor, if you will."

"Consider it done."

"I haven't even told you what it is."

"If I'm able to grant it, it's done. Now tell me."

Shaking her head slowly, Valmafra couldn't help the smile that touched her lips. The young Nanten could be infuriating at times, but he was always true to his word and trustworthy.

"The Templars are being dispatched all over Ivalice to find them. I can't say for sure which of the twelve they have recovered, but I know Vormav has one for sure."

"Vormav Tingel?" Olan asked, his gaze distant. "I suspect his daughter was given one as well."

"Meliadoul? What makes you think that?"

"Have you heard about Zaland?"

"No. What happened there?"

Valmafra listened intently as Olan relayed the story to her, ignoring the sea to give him her full attention. By the time he had finished she had come to the same conclusion, and traced one finger across her lower lip thoughtfully.

"I agree with you. Bart was working for the Cardinal, so the only reason he would risk imprisoning a Templar would be for a stone." She said. "Beoulve. Where have I heard that name before?"

"Nobility from Gallione. The family is close to Duke Larg, aside from Ramza, of course."

"Of course. The Lion of Bethla, correct? I've heard mention of him."

"So the Templars have spoken about him?"

"Some. Why do you ask?"

"Because Taurus was never recovered in Zaland, and I believe Ramza may have taken it, for whatever reason."

"If that is true the Templars might see him as a threat." She said quietly, considering just how much to tell the man. "I believe… they're trying to resurrect the Zodiac Braves."

"The heroes of legend? What do you mean?"

"By gathering all the stones and giving them to the Templars they can say that they're the holy soldiers of Ajora, sent to protect the people from the wars that are ravaging Ivalice."

"So you think it's a bid for power?"

"I do. Why else would they bother with something as trivial as some rocks? The legend of the Braves is still taught to children all across the land. If the Templars control the new incarnation of that story, they control the masses."

"What about you, Val? Where do you stand in all of this?"

"That is where the favor comes in."

* * *

Striding purposefully along the wall of the fort, Agrias headed toward Ovelia's chambers, nodding to the Nanten soldiers on the way. Agrias saw less and less of Ovelia since returning from Lesalia, as Delita found her counsel invaluable. Though she would never say so out loud, she had grown accustomed to his presence, even enjoyed this time at his right hand. She'd become an integral part of the command structure in the chaos of the war, and found herself invigorated by the responsibility that came with it. She was needed, sought after, and felt important. A few months before, she never would have believed she would seek the praise of a Nanten commander, but she hadn't met Delita then, either.

Alicia and Lavian smiled at her as she approached, but it was strained. She did regret not being able to see her knights as often, or speak with the Princess as freely as she once did. There would be time to mend that when the war was over, and surely the two women understood the importance of her work.

"Has she gone to bed?" Agrias asked quietly.

"Yes, but I doubt she's sleeping. She was visiting Lady Alma." Lavian said, indicating the walls around her. "She's troubled by all… this."

Agrias grunted, suddenly realizing she had nothing else to discuss with the other St. Konoe. Nodding to them briskly, she turned and walked off down the corridor, her mind drifting to the Beoulve knight. She had hardly spoken with him as well, though she was less bothered by that. Each of them had their own agendas, of equal importance. Agrias came to realize that, honestly, she'd barely known the man. Aside from their journey to the garrison together, they really hadn't even spoken in the first place. Perhaps she was just a stepping stone for him, a way to get him what he needed.

Letting thoughts of Ramza fall away, she let herself into Delita's chambers, as she often did. The Holy Knight stood at the far window of his room, staring out with both hands folded along the small of his back. Agrias stepped next to him, glancing outside before she spoke.

"Everything is prepared." She began, absently fingering the braided hair draped over her chest.

"Excellent." Delita replied quietly. "Now, ironically enough, we must wait on the Hokuten."

"You're certain this will work?" Agrias asked.

"Trust me Agrias." He said, smiling over at her. "I'll hold to my promise. Ovelia will have her kingdom, and we'll finally be done with the disease that is rotting Ivalice."

"What of Larg and the Ramza's brothers?"

"The Templars have plans set in motion on that front. As much as I hate to say it, I'll have to leave it in their hands. They have no reason to suspect I'm lying to them."

"I just wish there was another way."

"As do I." Delita agreed. "But if the only way to peace is through bloodshed, it's a price I'm willing pay."

* * *

Meliadoul woke late in the morning, and remained in Ramza's bed, staring at the wall. The Germonik Scriptures lay not far off, flipped open as far as Simon had translated. After meeting with Alma she had returned to the room and read through the ancient tome again, before finally succumbing to sleep. Sighing, the woman rolled onto her back, only then noticing she wasn't alone.

He sat in a high backed chair next to the bed, leaning forward with his head in his hands. Blonde hair spilled over Ramza's fingers, and for a moment Meliadoul thought he might have fallen asleep like that, and instantly felt guilty for occupying the bed he obviously needed. A moment later, however, he sat up, his gaze darting over to her.

"You're awake." He said softly, a ghost of a smile touching his lips.

"I apologize." She replied, sitting up and closing the book. "I should have taken the scriptures to my room, but I planned on locking them back up."

"Alma told me."

There was an awkward silence for several long seconds, as unconsciously Meliadoul attempted to restore her hair to some semblance of order. Tucking it behind her ears, the woman slipped to the edge of the bed, sitting near Ramza and placing both hands on the bed.

"How'd it go?"

"Last night?" He asked, casting his gaze to the floor. "It wasn't exactly as expected, but I think it turned out okay."

Another pause, as Ramza seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. Meliadoul stared over at him, wondering for the hundredth time what was going on in his head. Realizing she couldn't wait forever to find out, she decided to simply ask.

"How do you do it?" She asked, locking her gaze with his hazel eyes. "How do you carry the burden of this while fighting a war?"

Ramza held her gaze for a long moment, before running a hand over his face.

"I do it because I must." He said. "How will you?"

"I'm honestly not sure. Everything I've known might be a lie."

Ramza stood, gazing down at her thoughtfully. She could only guess what he thought when he looked at her; what he felt. Finally he smiled, reaching down to slide a stray strand of Meliadoul's hair back. As gentle a gesture as it was, Meliadoul knew the measure of destruction those hands could bring, and the simple contact of his fingertips tracing along her cheek set gooseflesh across her neck.

"You won't have to go it alone."

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks again to HopelessRomanticist for being my Beta for this story. It's often so hard to catch your own mistakes in both plot and writing, and the help is greatly appreciated.

Not much to say about this chapter, except that you get to see some of the characters who will play a major part in the story to come. The 'party' if you will. It's up to you to guess who is going to be in it, and who isn't. Sorry for all the Rafa/Malak/Mustadio fans, but you won't see much or any of them it seems. There might be a cameo, but don't hold me to that. Going over it I just don't see a way they would fit into this story, and honestly I never quite got why Mustadio decided to remain with Ramza in the first place. Perhaps because of all of his help. So yeah, very little of the Engineer in this story. Balmafula's name was changed to the WoTL version because I simply like it better, and it's my call. Take that.

Honestly the most fun I had with this one was Mel and Alma's 'girl talk'. It seemed so completely out of place with the Meliadoul we knew in canon, but I think it would fit Alma's personality perfectly. Ramza might be softening her a bit, but don't worry, she'll toughen up as needed soon enough.

Constructive Criticism recognized, especially if you see some hokey bit involving Mel and Ramza.


	12. Darkest Knight

**Chapter Twelve: Darkest Knight**

* * *

Olan always thought Igros was quite the sight, looming above the plains below, and wished he wasn't forced to walk the halls of the castle under Hokuten guard. When the war was over he would have to return to really explore it, assuming Goltana didn't raze it to the ground before then.

He nodded to Valmafra as they walked, a small smile touching his lips. The woman ignored him as best she could, though he noticed her gaze flit over to him for just a moment. She was an enigma. Beautiful and deadly, smart and efficient, Valmafra's motivations had always been her own secret.

Why she wanted to meet with Dycedarg Beoulve, Olan couldn't say. He almost wished he hadn't agreed so quickly to grant her favor, but he wouldn't go back on his word. As it was, Olan was perhaps the only Nanten who had any hope of entering a Northern Sky fort unmolested. The young astrologer had many responsibilities, one of which being a liaison to the Hokuten.

The large door to Dycedarg's study was opened, two Hokuten knights entering before them and taking up positions along the wall. More knights stood at either side of Dycedarg's desk, where the eldest Beoulve sat calmly. He stared coolly at Olan for a long moment, before the man began absently stroking his beard.

"Naught has changed, young Durai, as far as I'm concerned."

"The same can be said of the Southern Sky I'm afraid, as much as I wish it were different."

"So if you're not here to broker for peace I assume you're here on her behalf?" He asked, eyes sliding over to Valmafra.

"Indeed." Olan began. "This is-"

"I'm aware of who she is." Dycedarg replied, cutting him off before turning to the Hokuten. "Leave us."

The knights hesitated a moment, confusion etched onto their features. None seemed keen on leaving the Beoulve alone in the presence of a Nanten, and Olan couldn't begrudge them that. There was as much evil being done by the Southern Sky as could be aimed at the Hokuten. Finally they left the room, glaring at Olan as they passed.

"The Templar is gone not three days, and already the Church sends another meddler to me; this one no more than a slip of a girl."

"Lord Beoulve." Valmafra began, bowing her head slightly. "I wish to act as an aide to you and Prince Larg, on behalf of High Priest Funeral. I am not affiliated with the Templarate."

"Is that so?" The man said, his eyes narrowing. "As it was, I happen to know a little of you girl."

Dycedarg rose, placing both hands on the desk in front of him and staring across the room at her. Olan frowned, his gaze darting between the woman and the noble. A palpable tension had flooded into the room, so thick he felt he would have to swim through it to move.

"Let's not dance around this." Dycedarg began. "You're here for one thing, and I can tell you now you won't have it without a fight. I invite you to try, however."

Dycedarg opened both of his arms and raised his eyebrows, slowly walking around the desk. Olan turned to the woman, the tension slowly infecting him as well. Something else was going on here, and this was not what he had come for.

"Val, what's going on?"

"Didn't she tell you?" Dycedarg inquired with a knowing smile. "Miss Lenande here is an assassin for the Glabados church, answering directly to the High Confessor himself."

Olan's eyes drifted over to Valmafra, his expression carefully guarded. Of all the things he believed the woman to be, an assassin wasn't among them. As a moment passed and she didn't refute the accusation, Olan felt a cold hand wrap around his insides. It fit, now that he thought about it. Her secretive nature, her cool attitude in the few times he'd seen her fight, all seemed to hint toward it. How couldn't he have seen what she was?

"Vormav left you with Capricorn then?" She asked the Beoulve, soundly ignoring Olan.

"Capricorn?" Olan asked, his gaze leaping back to Dycedarg.

"So the High Confessor is still plotting his revolution? Were I still concerned about this human sandbox, I might consider that a problem."

"Lucavi." Valmafra said quietly, a note of fear touching her features.

The Lucavi were demons of legend, immortal creatures that fed on the fear and pain of all humanity. Olan knew the stories as well as anyone, but that didn't help to ebb the confusion over what was going on. They were a legend, tales to scare children into eating their vegetables. They weren't _real_.

"You had to have discovered this on your own. There isn't a chance that Funeral knows, considering he still has Vormav chasing our sealed brethren." Dycedarg said with a dark smile. "So what now, little girl? Your impressive sorcery does you no good here, with the sigils protecting this room."

Valmafra opened her mouth to speak, the fear on her face slowly spreading. However, before a word came out, Olan was already moving. He cared not for more words, not after what he had just heard. Their attention on each other instead of him, neither of them noticed him pull out the thick tome.

Olan stepped in front of the woman, opening the book and locking his gaze onto the demon that stood before him. Dycedarg continued to smile, as the atmosphere in the room began to change. With a laugh that began to change in pitch even as it left his throat, the eldest Beoulve charged them.

* * *

Ramza hadn't spoken with Meliadoul much since he'd shown her the scriptures, and neither of them had said a word about that night, but it was still fresh in his mind. He could still feel her lips on his when he thought about it, the way she had curved against him. It was a constant distraction, so he spent the following days finding ways not to think of her. Meliadoul seemed to desire the same it seemed, and was almost always with her brother. No doubt the woman would need time to cope with what she had learned.

Because of this Ramza spent most of his time with Alma, and consequently with the Princess as well. Sitting with the two women at the sluice, somewhat removed from the fort, became an afternoon ritual. With the Blades on standby for any possible attack, Ramza had little else to do.

Sitting in the cool grass, with Lavian and Alicia lounging not far from the three of them, he could almost forget about his troubles. Alma and Ovelia were good company, and almost seemed too innocent to be living in a fortress.

"Ramza," The Princess began, plucking several blades of grass from the earth. "Do you believe the Northern Sky will come here?"

"I do." He said slowly, pointing at the valley below. "My guess would be they will march from there, and try to meet our forces outside of the walls, using the high ground to their advantage."

"This stuff always bores me." Alma said with a sigh, lying back to soak in the sun above her.

"What… what will happen then?" Ovelia asked quietly, her eyes downcast.

"It won't be easy for either of us. There's no advantage to either side, if they're out of range of the fort's ballista. I expect the casualties will be high."

"Oh." She replied, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"Something wrong?" Ramza asked, his gaze landing on her.

"It's just… all those people fighting and dying… because of me."

"No, Your Highness, not because of you. You are not the cause of this. The greed of lesser men is."

"Still… I wish I had the power to stop it. To just make it all end."

Ramza pondered that for a long moment, as he stared out across the field beyond Bethla. The war would be coming to the garrison, and very soon, that much was certain. The Hokuten were losing ground, and the only hope they had on the Lesalian front was to take the fort.

"I wish I could do the same." Ramza said finally, leaning back on his elbows. "So much bloodshed for no reason other than to rule a land they are slowly destroying."

"Why do you fight then?" She asked quietly, an innocent question rather than an accusation.

"Because it's all I _can_ do. I can just try to end the war as quickly as possible, and help pick up the pieces of what my family has broken."

"Hey now," Alma said, opening one eye. "Don't go blaming me for the state of the world. Take that up with your other siblings."

"I've already petitioned Goltana to enlist you." Ramza said with a smirk. "Told him to give you a handbag and set you on Dycedarg. I suspect a full surrender would follow shortly."

"Damn right."

Ovelia laughed lightly, and Ramza soaked it in. Laughter was rare in these times. He wished he had more to smile about, let alone find funny. Reaching down, he gently pressed the stone to his side, feeling the familiar weight and coolness against his skin. When he looked over he noticed Alma's eyes on him, but before she could voice the concern in her eyes, loud footfalls heralded a visitor.

Ramza looked behind him, as Lavian and Alicia stood up. Even here in the safety of the fort, they took their role as the Princess' Vanguard seriously. They relaxed as Izlude came around the bend, running with an urgency that brought Ramza to stand as well.

"What is it?" He asked as his friend arrived panting.

"A woman arrived in bad shape. I've never met her before, but she asked for you by name. She's with Mel now. Apparently she just came from Igros."

Ramza glanced back at Alma, who immediately clambered to her feet and nodded to him before excusing herself quietly to Ovelia. He took Izlude by the arm and started toward the fort, knowing his sister wouldn't be far behind. The two knights practically ran the short distance to Bethla, Ramza's mind climbing over in an attempt to guess her purpose here.

It didn't take long for them to reach the chamber where Meliadoul had taken this mystery woman, and the two Blades shouldered past the guards and into the room. The woman sat at the large table dominating the room. Meliadoul stood against the wall behind her, absently pulling on her lower lip. The Templar glanced up as Ramza arrived, a small smile touching her lips, but he didn't have time to appreciate it.

"Ramza Beoulve?" The woman asked, her voice husky.

She looked like she'd been through hell and obviously had traveled hard. The journey from Igros to Bethla was no small trek, and Ramza wondered if she'd slept at all during it. Beneath the dirt and bruises she was obviously attractive, and judging by her attire she was perhaps a black mage. Ramza strode up to her, taking a seat nearby.

"My name is Valmafra Lenande." She said quickly, glancing at the others in the room. "I… Olan told me to come to you."

"Olan?" Ramza asked, glancing at her curiously. "Why? I barely know him."

"I don't know. He… he just said The Lion of Bethla, before the demon finally overcame him."

At that Meliadoul and Izlude perked up, as Alma slipped into the room. Ramza stood up, almost knocking the chair over, and ran both hands through his hair. The Tingel siblings in turn took a seat at the table, their faces dark.

"Lucavi in Igros? Who is it?" Ramza asked her, his eyes locked on the young sorceress.

"I'm afraid… it's your brother, Dycedarg.

Ramza really did knock the chair over this time, shoving it to the floor and pacing. After several long moments he strode back to the table, pulling out Taurus and placing it onto the table.

"I don't understand it." Ramza said, frustrated. "What is it about these damned stones? What brings out these monsters?"

"It's not just the stones." Meliadoul said, looking over at him. "It's the holder. Bart was hardly more than a brigand, and I think the Lucavi saw that. I think they seek out the darkness in a man's heart."

"Dycedarg has that in droves." Ramza replied quickly, burying his face in his hands.

"You have to save Olan." Valmafra said, her tone commanding. "If it wasn't for him… I would have died there."

Ramza stared over at her, a long silence filling the room. Alma stood next to him, letting her hand rest on his shoulder as he thought, while Izlude and Meliadoul looked on. Finally Izlude stood, clapping both of his hands together.

"So, are we leaving or what? We're wasting time just standing here."

"One does not simply walk into Igros." Ramza said. "Aside from Lesalia, it's the most heavily guarded stronghold in the Northern Sky."

"You say that as if it really matters to you." Izlude replied with a rueful smile, and Ramza couldn't help but laugh.

"I'll get the chocobos ready." Alma said, turning to leave.

"No, you're staying here." Ramza shot back, jerking his head toward her.

"Right, sure. So if he's seriously hurt, _you're_ going to treat him? You've been practicing black magic, not white, dear brother."

Ramza glared at her, and knew with Alma standing there, hands on hips, he wasn't going to win the argument. There wasn't time to waste on it, either.

"Then you do exactly as I say, and you stay within reach of either me or Izlude."

At Izlude's name a small blush crept up the girl's features, and Ramza pretended he didn't see. He stood, plans running through his head as Izlude and Meliadoul strode over to him.

"I'm coming too." Meliadoul said simply, nodding to Ramza and her brother. "It's not like I have much keeping me here anyway. So hurry up and get ready."

"When did I begin taking all my orders from women?" Ramza asked with a sigh.

"You always have." His sister supplied with a grin. "First from mother, then me. Now it's Mel's turn."

Doing his best to ignore Alma's remark, Ramza rushed to his room. He dressed out quickly, strapping his armor to a pack instead of wearing it, and set out to the stables. They had to move quickly, before the fort caught wind of what was going on. Trust in Ramza had already been damaged by his impromptu trip to Zaland, and he doubted very much that Orlandu would approve of this excursion deep into the Northern Sky.

He was halfway finished saddling Atro when a loud cough behind him made him cringe. Slowly he turned to face the Thunder God, shifting uncomfortably. Orlandu stood with arms crossed, his stern gaze boring into Ramza.

"Setting off again?" He asked.

"Yes." Ramza replied, taking a deep breath. "How did you know?"

"There's little that goes on in my garrison without my knowledge, especially concerning you."

Cid walked slowly toward him, unfurling his arms and holding out one weathered hand. Ramza stared down, confusion sweeping over his face, at the stone the man held.

"You… Libra?"

"Yes. Me Libra." Orlandu said calmly, staring right through him. "Give this to Olan. It's time I passed it down."

"Passed it down?"

"Blood does not make a family. You should know this best of all."

"I'll return with him, I give you my word."

"I just received word the Northern Sky forces are gathering to the north. Igros should be maintained with a skeleton guard."

"Thank you Sir."

"Not calling me Cid anymore, are we?" He replied with a wry smile. "Get moving. I expect you back in time to do your job as a Nanten Knight."

Ramza nodded solemnly, grabbing Atro's reins and jogging out of the stables.

* * *

Wiping the blood from his sword, Delita rose to his feet, just as the door behind him opened. He sheathed his blade as Agrias entered, the woman sparing only a glance at the fallen Duke before speaking.

"It's done. Orlandu has been imprisoned and Ovelia is secure."

"Then everything is ready. Ramza left at the perfect time it seems, though I have no idea why he would make for Igros. Now we merely wait for the Hokuten to get into position."

"Should I make the announcement then?"

"Yes. Inform the soldiers that Count Orlandu turned on our beloved Duke. His outburst during the war council is no secret. The story should be believed. I'll be along shortly to take control of the knights."

"As you wish."

With a shallow bow Agrias departed, leaving Delita and the corpse of Goltana. He'd plotted and worked for months to get to this point, yet now he found it difficult to focus on the task at hand. He'd barely spoken to his childhood friend since he began planning the war effort, but he'd kept tabs on Ramza and his friends. The man was behaving erratically, setting out of on his own agendas often.

Delita didn't know what to make of it all. Ramza surely had a purpose, for the knight did nothing without a reason. Silently Delita wished he had more time to investigate the matter, for he felt it may have some importance concerning his control of the Southern Sky and defiance of the Church. Shaking his head to clear it, the new commander of the Nanten gathered his thoughts.

He had a war to win and a country to build.

* * *

The rain began to fall as they reached Igros, thick sheets pounding Meliadoul as she dismounted. There wasn't a single Hokuten soldier in sight, and it was obvious the rest of them were as nervous as she. Weapons were already drawn as they crept around the side of the castle, eyes on the ramparts. Ramza stopped them after only a few moments, frowning.

"They know we've come or there would at least be some guards outside." He said slowly, turning. "Izlude, take my sister and find him. She knows the way."

"I'm going with them." Valmafra said with conviction, clearly not keen on taking orders.

"Very well. Meliadoul and I will circle around front. Meet us inside when you have him."

"Don't do anything reckless." Alma said sternly, her hand on his arm. "You wait for the rest of us, okay?"

Ramza nodded slightly, and the rest of them were off. The captain ran fingers through his damp hair, sighing and turning to Meliadoul. The Divine Knight stared at him for a long moment, noting that Ramza had yet to draw either of his swords. The man wore one on his left hip in the normal fashion, but had also slung a second blade across his back in the style of many of the warriors from the East.

"If I tell you to run, you do it." Ramza ordered, his gaze direct.

"Like hell I will." Mel replied with a rueful smile, adjusting the grip on her hilt and starting around the castle.

Ramza took the lead, jogging up slickened stone stairs and toward the front gate of Igros castle. The Beoulve was driven with such purpose that Meliadoul knew his sister's words had fallen on deaf ears. He had no intention of waiting idly for Alma and the others to meet with them. It wasn't until they reached the gate, standing wide open, that he skittered to a halt.

"I should have known." He said quietly, as Gaffgarion strode out to meet them.

Flanking the Touten were a handful of Hokuten knights, each of them heavily armored and easily ten years Ramza's senior. Meliadoul stepped to his side as Gaffgarion nodded, signaling the knights to advance on them.

"They're mine." Ramza said simply, his right hand moving slowly to the sword on his hip.

"All five? Don't be ridiculous."

The wry smile he shot at her caught he off guard, as Meliadoul realized she'd never seen the man act like this. The shy and quiet Ramza Beoulve seemed to have vanished as soon as his fingers found his hilt, replaced instead with this battle hungry knight.

Ramza bent at the knees, and without a word he leapt toward the Hokuten, his speed and headlong charge surprising the knights as much as it did Meliadoul. For a moment the woman could only stand, awestruck, and watch him. She realized now she'd never truly seen the man in action, and she had completely underestimated him.

Ramza landed in the midst of the Northern Sky soldiers, his left hand snapping back to the sword on his back. In a flash he drew both blades, attacking the nearest knight without hesitation. He fought with the kind of ferocity and courage Meliadoul hadn't before witnessed, his style erratic and fluid at the same time. Each strike turned easily into a parry, as he moved from one man to the next in a blur. The Hokuten, all five of them, found themselves on the defensive.

Finally, gathering her wits and closing her mouth, the Divine Knight charged ahead. Droplets of rain bounced off of her blade as she slid behind Ramza, thrusting at a knight who swept in with a hasty slash. He parried it deftly, stepping inside of her guard to attempt to smash the pommel of his blade into Meliadoul's face. She ducked low, rotating her grip to land a small cut on his hip, and leapt back.

Raising her sword, she brought her sword skills to bear. These were crack Hokuten knights, trained for decades in their craft, and she knew she was no match for them in melee combat. Her advantage would lie in her arts. Slashing downward, the magical projectile fell from the heavens, shattering the man's helmet and bringing him to his knees.

Meliadoul turned to avoid one of the blades aimed at her, trying her best not to be distracted by the display of swordplay next to her. Ramza handled the three other knights as though it were no problem at all, quickly parrying and striking out at every opportunity.

Holding her Save the Queen with both hands, the Divine Knight sidestepped, attempting a diagonal upward slash at the Hokuten's exposed side. He blocked the attack, the sheer force of the blow sending his sword skyward. The knight wasted not a moment, using Mel's momentary loss of balance to drive into her. The charge knocked her back, sending her sprawling onto the stone as he pulled a smaller sword from his side.

Meliadoul scrambled to a crouch, raising her arm just in time to block the knee aimed for her nose, which in turn sent her onto her backside. The man fell toward her, bringing his short sword down to try and drive it into her throat. As close as he was her sword was a liability, too long to deflect the attack. Acting on instinct, the Divine Knight threw both of her feet up, planting them against the man's chest as he fell. She rolled her hips, propelling him off and over her head.

Using the momentum of the maneuver, she rolled back as the knight landed in a heap near her. He would recover in a moment, and she had only an instant before he would be leaping back at her. Landing on her knees, Meliadoul slashed out at him as the man tried to roll free. The tip of her sword caught him in the throat, slicing clean through and mixing his blood with the water all around them.

Panting, she turned her attention back to Ramza. One of the Hokuten lie bleeding, not far off, clutching the gaping wound in his side. It took Meliadoul a moment to get her bearings, and another fraction of one to snap her sword up. The sharp cry of steel on steel made her wince, as she found her blade bashed down. The impact jarred her, her knuckles rapping on the stone cobbles as Save the Queen hit the ground.

Then Ramza slammed into the knight who had gone after her, knocking the man to the side, and the Beoulve raised his sword. The three Hokuten rounded on him, lunging at the same moment, and then Meliadoul was unsure what had happened. She felt the wave of magic, the shift of it pulling her forward, as darkness leapt out from Ramza's sword.

It flew in an arc in front of him, the dark energy tearing into the knights and lifting them easily off of their feet. The Hokuten crumbled to the ground as the spell passed over them, and did not rise again. Ramza stood, panting, sword still held aloft, as Meliadoul scrambled to her feet.

Then the man fell to a knee, taking a deep breath. He was obviously in pain, but she could see no wound as Mel knelt to look at him. Aside from a small cut along his cheek, he was unharmed. Yet he winced, and began coughing violently for a moment.

"I must say I am impressed." Gaffgarion said, shaking his head in appreciation as he approached. "I'd never have imagined you'd come so far already. I'm curious to see how much you have learned."

"I didn't expect… the pain…" Ramza said through ragged breaths.

He had lost his second sword at some point during the fight, and used the one he still carried to help him to his feet. Once he was standing he took a deep breath, setting his jaw and holding the sword at the ready.

"Such is the price of power." Gaffgarion said, laughing. "My old bones can't handle those advanced techniques any longer, but I remember the pain. You'll grow used to it, and perhaps even enjoy it, in time."

"What the hell was that?" Meliadoul asked, aiming the tip of her blade at the Touten.

"He didn't tell you of our arrangement? When Ramza defeated me, it wasn't your life he brokered for. That was a bonus I threw in." Gaffgarion supplied with a laugh, his dark eyes sliding over her. "I simply couldn't watch such a rare flower wither."

Meliadoul glared at him for a moment, before turning her attention to Ramza. The man's eyes were downcast, his gaze darting to her for but an instant. She understood what had happened, though she hadn't suspected the Beoulve held such skills. He'd never once hinted toward it, and almost seemed ashamed to have used them.

"You taught him sword skills." She said bluntly.

"I merely showed him the path." Gaffgarion replied with a shrug. "That old Priest, Simon, was thrilled when I finally left."

"Gaffgarion came with me to Orbonne when I decided it wasn't safe for Alma there, and taught me what I must do, what skills I had to master first." Ramza explained, shooting her an apologetic glance. "I hadn't known you came looking for me until he returned with the news."

"He was sure quick to come to your rescue, I must say." Gaffgarion continued, smirking.

"Why the path of a Dark Knight?" Meliadoul asked, ashamed of how disappointed she sounded.

"We Touten, being atheists, were never given the honor of being taught the skills you are so proud of." Gaffgarion explained with disdain. "Ramza knew he would be denied the same opportunity. It's a shame too. I have never seen a man so quickly pick up sword skills, not even the great Balbanes. Most of my people spent years before they reached Ramza's prowess. Who are you to judge us for doing all that we can?"

"I meant no disrespect…" Meliadoul said soothingly, more for Ramza than for the Touten.

Squaring his jaw, Ramza set his gaze on Gaffgarion, his sword still held tightly in one hand.

"We don't have to do this, Gaff. You should just walk away."

"One compliment and your ego just explodes." The man replied with a dark smile, drawing his sword. "Orders are orders, as much as I may not like them. I don't get paid for running."

"So be it."

Meliadoul stepped back as the two Dark Knights began to circle each other, biting down on her lower lip. She saw Ramza in a new light, or a lack of it. Dark Knights were shunned by the Church and every other order that used the skills that Templars had honed over generations. She had personally been raised to distrust the Touten, and with good reason. Most of the Dark Knights were selfish and arrogant, concerned only with themselves and their own power.

Ramza was nothing like that, yet he chose the path willingly, without a second thought. He knew what it meant to use those sword skills and still he embraced them, nurtured them to make himself a more powerful warrior. She could only guess how he had kept the secret from those around him, training in secret whenever he found time.

It had taken her years, with a dedicated teacher, to master the skills of a Divine Knight. It floored her to think that Ramza had, all by himself, brought his own brand of sword skills to this level. It was no wonder he barely slept.

She was brought out of her reverie when the fight began. Ramza and Gaffgarion jerked their swords downward, mirroring each other. The ethereal blades tore through the rain, clashing together between the two men. Mel could feel the dark magic radiating from the canceled attacks, as the dissipating arcane power blasted the falling droplets in all directions.

Gaffgarion laughed as they charged at each other, blades slamming together with a violent crash. The Dark Knights went back and forth, fighting with brute force rather than finesse. Meliadoul watched on, her gaze focused entirely on Ramza. It took her only a moment to realize he wasn't fighting as he normally did, and only one more to know why.

_He chooses to fight Gaffgarion on his level, because he already knows he can win. He's so subtle about it the other man doesn't notice, but it's so obvious. Ramza is letting him keep his honor…_

As soon as she realized this, Meliadoul's feelings shifted. She stared at Ramza as the man pulled his blows, deliberately struggling and slowing himself down. Regardless of the skills he chose to wield, Ramza was still the same compassionate soul. Even against his enemy he showed restraint and respect.

Even restrained as he was, it was still quite the battle to watch. Ramza could have easily defeated Gaffgarion utilizing his normal style of swordplay, but when using the same form as the older knight they were fairly matched. Neither gave ground, moving in a constant circle as they switched from thrusts and slashes to arcane skills.

Approaching footfalls drew Meliadoul's attention, and Ramza's as well, as the others ran toward the gate. They must have heard the sounds of combat and picked up the pace, the injured Olan clinging tightly to Izlude's shoulder as they came through the deluge.

Ramza moved then, quicksilver to Gaffgarion's molasses. He dragged his blade down the length of the elderly knight's sword, snagging their hilts and stepping into his guard. Throwing his body weight into Gaffgarion, Ramza tripped him up, simultaneously disarming and knocking the man to the ground. Tip to throat, Ramza had won.

"I yield." Gaffgarion said roughly between ragged breaths, sitting up as Ramza withdrew the point of his blade from the man's neck.

"I knew you wouldn't listen." Alma said in frustration as Ramza sheathed his weapon, bending to retrieve his second sword as well.

"What did we miss?" Izlude asked as he sidled up to them, careful not to jar Olan's wounds.

"Just me being bested, again, by this little whelp." Gaffgarion said, rubbing sore joints.

"Come with us to Bethla." Ramza offered, crossing both arms over his chest. "There's no place for you here anymore."

"Ha! What business would I have in the Southern Sky?"

"You would be my charge. Something of… a military advisor."

Gaffgarion considered the young knight for a moment, water dripping from his weathered face. Gingerly the old Touten climbed to his feet, his dark gaze jumping to each of them.

"I have one term." He replied finally. "I won't take orders from Cid, that stuffy old bastard."

"Mind your tongue." Olan said weakly, leaning on Izlude for support.

Gaffgarion smiled slyly as he took Ramza's hand, shaking it firmly before his legs nearly gave out.

"Can we get out of the cold? I'm getting too old for this shit."

Ramza nodded, motioning for the others to follow him inside. Slipping into the large gate of the castle, Ramza led them to a small chamber, closing the door after everyone had entered. Izlude gently lowered Olan to the floor, the astrologist sighing and slumping against the wall.

"How bad are you injured?" Ramza asked, kneeling near him.

"It's not serious. They were a little rough with me, is all."

Meliadoul could tell he was lying just by the way Olan was breathing. He was certainly in no condition to travel without treatment, and had they been a day later it was likely he wouldn't be alive at all. Ramza ignored that obvious fact, withdrawing a small stone from his person.

"This belongs to you." He said, handing it to Olan.

"Libra?" The young man asked, a chuckle escaping him before the pain dispelled it. "I knew you were lying about the stones."

Valmafra took up a position at Olan's other side, checking him over as the man held Libra tightly in his grasp. His gaze rolled to her, a small smile remaining on his lips.

"Thank you. I knew you wouldn't leave me here to rot."

"Olan," She said, her voice dry. "If you ever do something like that again, I'll kill you myself."

"What now?" Alma asked, idly rolling her hair through her fingers next to Izlude.

"Stay here with Olan and Gaff." Ramza ordered, checking his armor. "I need to have a few words with our brother."

* * *

The large antechamber where Dycedarg spent most of his time was illuminated by several torches lining the room, dispelling the darkness that threatened to seep in through the large windows at the back wall. Ramza knew his brother, what was left of him, would be there waiting. He hadn't expected that the man wouldn't be alone.

They stood amidst the bodies of a dozen Hokuten, at the head of the room next to Larg's demolished desk. The Prince himself rested in a bloody heap at Dycedarg's feet, his expression frozen in a state of fear. The eldest Beoulve held no weapon, but the blood on his hands was proof enough that it was he that had killed Larg; He had torn the man apart with his bare hands.

"Ah, Ramza!" He said jovially, grinning. "I knew you'd be along shortly. I'm sure you remember the Cardinal."

"We met a long time ago." Ramza replied, his gaze slipping over to Draclau.

"You're the boy who has my stone, aren't you?" The man asked coolly, his face still.

Meliadoul and Izlude, their hands close to their hilts, took up positions beside Ramza.

"The children of Vormav; Now nothing more than bodyguards to an ignorant bastard." Dycedarg said with a laugh. "Your father would not be pleased. He orchestrated this, did you know that?"

The man gestured to the fallen Prince and the dead knights, blood still dripping from the tips of his fingers.

"Is this your game then? Simply trying to take the throne?"

"Not at all." Dycedarg replied, his laugh distorted. "Not long ago, yes, I wanted the reins of Ivalice in my hands. That is, after all, why I poisoned our father and started this war."

Ramza felt his knees go weak. Demons lie, he knew that, but the admission Dycedarg gave was so earnest. As he stared at the sadistic smile on the Lucavi's face, he knew it was true. Before his brother had even become one of these monsters he had killed his own father, all for his own ambition. Ramza silently felt sick.

"Oh, that was supposed to be a secret. No matter. I care naught for such petty human aspirations any longer. No, our goal is much grander."

"What goal would that be?" Ramza asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Hell on earth, dear brother." Dycedarg replied, still smiling. "The High Priest of Glabados thinks we're trying to give him control over Ivalice, but that's such a human agenda. We want to make you suffer. Nothing could please us more."

"Enough talk, Adramelk." Draclau said finally. "Let's just kill them and be done with it."

"Fair enough. Goodbye, little brother."

As one the three knights drew steel, and a wave of cold washed over them. Black tendrils leapt from the two Lucavi, snaking around and through them with madcap abandon as they transformed. Horns sprouted from Dycedarg's head as his bones popped and reformed, his spine hunching. Fur forced itself out of his pores, rapidly covering his form in a shade of deep green.

A completely different thing happened to the Cardinal, as his mass expanded quickly. The elderly man grew outward, rotten flesh tearing through his robes. His stomach tore partly open, revealing a gaping maw within. Putrid gas leaked from the tear, drifting lazily around the demon's body as a gurgling laugh escaped his throat.

Disgusted, Ramza didn't wait for them to finish their hellish transformations before he attacked. Flashing his sword up, he unleashed his dark swordskills, a blade of obsidian dancing upward from the floor and through Draclau's body. The Lucavi cried out in anger and pain, the sound ripping forth from the mouth within its body.

The Dark Knight couldn't spare concentration on Izlude or Meliadoul, as the Divine Knight followed up with a magical skill of her own. Before he was able to throw another arcane attack at the rotund beast, he was forced to the defensive. Adramelk charged him, wicked claws lashing out at his face. Ramza ducked low, dragging his blade across the demon's knees, and rolled to the side.

He saw Izlude move out of the corner of his eye, the youngest Tingel leaping to engage the Cardinal with his sister, as Ramza lured his brother away from them. The demon advanced on him without hesitation, punctuating wildly casted magic of unknown origins with those razor sharp talons. For the first time in a long time, Ramza found himself completely on the defensive.

What Adramelk lacked in speed he made up for in arcane and physical might, as Ramza did his best to avoid the spells sent his way. There was no time to plan or think; his entire concentration spent dodging the constant attacks that came at him. He fought entirely on instinct, staying close to avoid Dycedarg's formidable spellwork.

Claws glancing off his breastplate, Ramza finally scored a hit. The tip of his blade sank deep into the demon's side as Adramelk's hand slammed into his side, knocking Ramza through the air and his sword from his grasp. He landed hard, rolling quickly to his feet and drawing his second blade.

Upon rising, he froze. Lying not far off was Izlude, slumped against the wall with his head down. Ramza felt his heart drop, his attention fixated on his friend. He couldn't tell if the young knight was breathing or not, and the distraction almost proved fatal.

"Ramza!" Meliadoul screamed, running toward him.

The Lucavi, Queklain, had fallen under the constant barrage of her holy skills, but was slowly rising. Ramza took everything in slowly as he turned back to the charging Adramelk, horns lowered as the demon prepared to skewer him against the wall. Ramza raised his sword, knowing he couldn't stop the beast by force, with nowhere to move to avoid it.

His fallen brother was only a step away when the air exploded with static energy, a powerful bolt of lightning taking it full in the chest. Adramelk was knocked sideways by the spell, shattered a bookshelf lining the large room, and dropped to his knees. Ramza quickly moved away, running toward the center of the room to regroup.

"Nothing in _here_ to protect you, you filthy bastard."

Valmafra stood just inside the antechamber, small static charges still dancing around her fingers, cold hate dominating her features. Alma knelt near the fallen Izlude, frantically chanting over him, as Meliadoul finally reached Ramza. The Divine Knight had blood flowing down her cheek and a haunted look in her eyes as she refused to look at her brother.

"You two take the Cardinal." Ramza ordered with conviction, his gaze locked onto Meliadoul's as he took the back of her neck.

The Dark Knight kissed her deep and quick, turning away just as fast, and set his jaw. If he didn't survive this, he at least wanted that to keep him company as he went into the darkness. Adramelk was up again, his breath fuming, and Ramza charged. He heard Valmafra's spell as he moved, and a searing heat wrapped itself around his blade.

By the time he reached Dycedarg the heat had grown into a full-fledged flame, the sorcery giving his attacks an edge he would need. The demon raised its hands in defense, but Ramza feinted to the side, his blade flashing up quickly. Trailing fire, the sword sliced into its side, black blood boiling as it splashed onto the floor. Adramelk screamed in defiance, the sound ululating through the room, and slashed at Ramza.

The Dark Knight ducked under the clumsy attack, planting a foot against the crumbled bookshelf. He used the pile of splintered wood to propel himself up, kicking off of the wall and over the demon. Ramza turned in midair, landing on the creature's hunched back, and locked his feet under its arms. Crying out in exertion and rage, he drove his sword down into Dycedarg's back, burying the flaming sword to the hilt in his unholy flesh.

Adramelk bucked, tossing Ramza off only a moment after he plunged his blade in. The knight bounced hard off the stone wall, landing a short distance away. The Lucavi screamed and thrashed, claws gouging the mortar as it looked for him. Ramza spotted the sword he'd lost before and rolled, scrambling for it.

He could hear the beast's thunderous footsteps behind him, growing closer, as his fingers found the hilt. Ramza flipped to his back, slashing through the air toward his brother even as the demon bore down on him. Darkness ripped from the sword, parting the air between them, as those mutated, elongated arms gripped Ramza's side, claws tearing through his flesh.

Ramza was lifted from the stone floor and thrown, striking the remnants of Prince Larg's desk as his sword skill cleaved his brother clean in half. He had half a moment of relief, pain, and the feel of Meliadoul's lips on his before the room went dark.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Yay Ramza died! Story is over!

No, he's not, probably. Never know. This is definitely the longest chapter in the story thus far, and it goes by very quickly. I almost thought it went too fast, but that's also what I'm going for. I'm beginning to amp up the story in terms of things happening, since I'm now up to 12 chapters and not even close to some of the things I want to include. As always reviews are appreciated and ideas looked over. Part One of this most likely three part story is almost done, so I guess you could say it's 1/3 finished. Hopefully people stick around for the entire thing.

And someone better have gotten the 'walk into Igros' reference.


	13. The Fallen Sky

**Chapter Thirteen: The Fallen Sky**

**

* * *

**

Ramza woke in darkness, and were it not for the pulsing, throbbing pain in his head he could have believed he had died. The Dark Knight lay in silence for several long moments, his eyes slowly informing him that it wasn't the complete, total black of oblivion that surrounded him. A gentle breeze drifted over him, rustling the tall grass all around, making it plain that autumn was approaching with purpose.

The Beoulve strived to sit, a fresh stab of agony forcing him back down before he even got close. He was covered with a woolen throw, further proof he couldn't be dead, unless everyone had come along for the ride. A subtle movement next to him brought his head to turn, and even in the darkness he could make out Meliadoul's soft features.

"Be still." She whispered soothingly. "You're safe."

Ramza sighed, letting his head fall back down. He closed his eyes for but a moment before he recalled just how he got into his current state, and promptly attempted to rise again.

"Izlude!" He rasped, his voice rough.

"I _said_ to stay still." The woman replied, a firm hand on his bare chest forcing the knight back down. "He's fine. We're all fine. Just rest, okay?"

Nodding shallowly, he conceded defeat, a small shiver rolling through his entire body. Meliadoul's hand instantly went to his face, and the soft feel of her fingertips seemed to make his headache melt away.

"You're not feverish, are you? You weren't before."

"No," Ramza replied, his teeth clacking together once. "It's just cold."

"Ah," The woman replied, leaning away from him for a moment. "We couldn't risk a fire, with all the Hokuten about."

"Good idea. Where are we?"

"Not far from Igros. We got as far as we could with so many wounded." Meliadoul began, gently lifting one side of the blanket. "My heart, you're practically freezing."

"Told you so."

Ramza was delirious enough that it took a moment to figure out where the new warmth next to him had come from, and he was too tired to protest her presence. Meliadoul moved against him, slipping one leg over both of his and draping her arm across his chest. The knight was glad she couldn't see the flush that flooded over his face at the feel of her bare thigh on his knees.

"Is that better? I'm not hurting you, am I?" She asked quietly, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

"No, this is… alright."

"Just alright? I'm a little offended."

Ramza let out a small laugh, which ended quickly as sharp agony shot up his side.

"Sorry, sorry. Rest now."

As tired as he was, the young knight wasn't able to fall immediately to sleep. He lie there, eyes closed, focused entirely on the way Meliadoul curved against him. Her breath was warm across his chest, and he absently felt the tips of her fingers drift lazily over his ribs, caressing around his bandaged wounds. He wondered distantly how a woman, and a knight no less, could have skin so soft.

Ramza thought he could have only been asleep for a moment, but when he opened his eyes he saw that dawn had come. Meliadoul's warm form was still pressed against him, and at some point during the night he had slipped an arm beneath her neck, holding the woman fast to his chest. The man might have appreciated this more, had his sister not been leaning over him, gently prodding his shoulder with two fingers.

"You couldn't be hurt too bad," She whispered, smirking and indicating the Divine Knight with one hand. "If you had the energy for _this_."

"I was cold." He said, glaring at her.

"Sure you were. I almost didn't want to wake you two. Well, _you_ I wanted to, not Mel. You're just lucky Izlude isn't in good enough shape to be the one to come over here."

Ramza glanced down at Meliadoul's face, her hair spilling over his shoulder. The woman slept soundly, her breathing light, and seeing the small smile on her face Ramza didn't want to wake her either. Alma grinned at him, poking his shoulder one more time, before she stood up and walked away.

Taking a deep breath, Ramza gently shook the woman's shoulder, wincing as he used the arm on his injured side. It took a moment for Meliadoul to come around, her soft brown eyes adjusting to the new light of morning. She rubbed them quickly, sitting up and looking around.

Still lying on his back, Ramza did his best to keep his eyes from drifting down to her legs, as her shift rode up to the top of her thighs. He managed it, but barely. Meliadoul smiled down at him shyly, clearing her throat and quickly sidling over to her own bedroll, not far off. They dressed in silence, Ramza leaving his tunic off to keep from aggravating his injuries, and made their way to the others.

"Sleep well?" Olan asked as he walked up.

"He sure did." Alma replied with a devious smirk.

"Well enough." Ramza said, shooting his sister a look. "How are you doing Olan?"

"Honestly you were in worse shape than Izlude or me, but I'm glad Alma knows her way around white magic."

"Most of his injuries were self inflicted." His sister said with a sigh. "I never would have been okay with you training as you had if I knew I'd be the one tending to you after each battle."

"Yeah, way to mention that to me by the way." Izlude chimed in. "I wondered where you were sneaking off to all the time. I never would have guessed you'd become a Dark Knight."

"He thought you were off seducing his sister." Alma added as she leaned over to check the blushing young Tingel's injured leg.

"I don't like you two talking." Ramza said with a small laugh, before he fell to a seat in the cool, tall grass.

"I can't thank you enough for coming, all of you." Olan said quietly, absently plucking a stalk near him.

"You don't have to thank me, my boy, it was nothing!" Ramza hadn't seen Gaff until he clapped the young Astrologist on the shoulder, dropping to sit nearby.

"Remind me again why we're bringing this old duffer back with us?" Olan asked, rolling his eyes.

"Your words are like a dagger into my icy heart." Gaff replied, before turning to Ramza. "Most of the Hokuten have moved on, but we should wait awhile longer before we make for the Southern Sky."

"Good," Alma said, turning to her brother. "That gives them time to catch up on some light reading."

"What?"

"The scriptures of course. Izlude and I decided that as deep in it as they are, they have every right to know."

"Again, you two talking, not a good thing."

Ramza huffed, reaching for his pack next to Atro. The black chocobo warked gently, pecking his hand as he took it. Chucking the playful bird on the beak, he dragged the bag to him, and pulled out the Germonik Scriptures. He first handed it to Olan and Valmafra, sitting closest. Letting the large tome rest over both of their laps, they read in silence.

"I don't do reading." Gaff said as it was offered to him. "Summarize it for me."

Ramza took a moment to tell him what the scriptures said, as the other listened intently. At the end of it the old knight whistled, leaning back onto his elbows.

"Glad I didn't read it. Sounds boring."

"Are you serious?" Olan asked, incredulous. "This book completely contradicts the teachings of the Glabados Church for the last, oh, thousand years or so. As far as weapons go, when it comes to fighting the church, this is the greatest."

"It's not the church we're fighting, let's not forget that." Valmafra replied calmly. "It's the Lucavi. The High Confessor knew nothing of these demons."

"Right, but he had no problem plotting to overthrow both the Northern _and _Southern Sky." Olan shot back, obviously not happy she'd lied to him.

"Look," Ramza cut in, before an all out argument could start. "This isn't about fighting anyone. We're the only people who know what's really going on, and why this war is even happening. We have to stop it."

"Stop it? How?" Izlude asked, rubbing his sore leg.

"We have to get to Bethla before the Hokuten do. Zalbag will listen to me, especially if we show him this. This entire war is being used by the Lucavi for some end, though I can't see what that end is. They want us fighting, weakened, for whatever it is they're after. The longer we make war and kill each other, the more likely it is they will succeed. We have to stop them before it's too late, and we're the only ones who can."

"Have you ever considered public speaking?" Izlude asked, grinning. "I'm ready to take on the entire country after that."

"Shut up, get up, and let's go." Ramza replied, shaking his head and fighting down the smile that touched his lips.

* * *

"Adramelk and Queklain have fallen." Vormav spoke quietly, gently caressing the hilt of his sword.

"We believe it was the youngest Beoulve. If so, he may be traveling with your son and daughter."

"Thank you Kletian, I know that." The man replied, annoyed. "Neither of them were fit to join our ranks, so it falls upon fate they should follow him. What of the scriptures?"

"We have heard nothing hinting to their location yet. Our agents are searching far and wide, it won't be long."

"Without that book we can do nothing." Vormav mused, deep in thought. "Send for Folles."

"As you wish, My Lord." The young sorcerer bowed deeply before exiting the room.

Events weren't unfolding as Vormav had foreseen, and he didn't care for it in the least. By now Larg and Goltana were surely dead, but this Ramza Beoulve was already dogging his every move. The young knight was nobody, simply a traitorous squire in the Southern Sky. Yet somehow he had managed to now kill three of Vormav's allies, and the Templar had no idea how.

Further annoyance came from the knowledge that his children, or the two that had once been his seed, were now following this little pest around. If Ramza knew what the stones were capable of, and had taken them from Vormav's fellow Lucavi, he'd been handed one for free from Meliadoul. Sooner or later, Vormav would have to deal with them all.

"Yes?"

Vormav turned to face the Holy Knight as he entered, hands clasped behind his back. Wiegraf's stance, as always, was defiant. For a human he had far too much of an ego. Fighting the urge to tear him apart there and then, Vormav smiled.

"Ah, Wiegraf. I have a task for you."

"What is it?"

"I need you to take some men and find something for me. Something very… important."

"Very well, what am I seeking?"

"It's a rather old book. It won't be in a language you can read, but you'll know it by the name written on the first page, Germonik."

"The disciple of Ajora? Is this volume that old?"

"Yes, and it's vital to us that you retrieve it."

"Fine."

With that the knight left, and Vormav again fought the urge to claw his arrogant eyes out. He often thought that bringing the man to them had been a mistake, that perhaps he didn't possess the right attributes. Time would tell, however, if Velius could make use of him. If not Vormav would simply kill him outright, and enjoy it all the more.

* * *

Ramza stood wide-eyed, the leather reins held white knuckle tight as he stared down the hill. He'd never seen such forces massed against each other, poised to strike the moment the order was given. Outside of the garrison, with the small valley between them, the Northern and Southern Sky had formed in all their glory.

"How many?" Alma asked quietly from beside him, and Ramza couldn't bring himself to answer.

"In short, all of them." Gaff supplied, rubbing the whiskers on his face. "Thousands of fools lined up for war."

"This isn't war. This is a bloodbath." Izlude noted, his gaze crawling over the men below them.

"It was bound to come to this eventually." Olan said in hushed awe, favoring his tender ribs. "Either the Northern Sky falls in that valley, or we do."

Ramza said nothing. He simply stared down at the fort and the soldiers, his mind racing. This was what the Lucavi wanted. There were no winners in this battle save for them. After the dust had cleared and the bodies had piled up, both armies would be ripe for the picking. He knew without a doubt that this was his brother's goal.

"Ramza?" Izlude asked, moving next to him. "What do we do?"

How could he answer that? He was just a man. One man. He couldn't halt a cavalry charge and put an army to rout. Yet he knew he had no choice. If he didn't stop them Zalbag and Delita would hand Ivalice to the Lucavi without ever knowing it.

Something was bothering him, digging at the back of his mind, and he was brought back to his conversation with Ovelia. He could stop this war, he knew it somehow, but he didn't know why he thought so. Narrowing his eyes, he turned his gaze back to the sluice, where he had spoken to her. Suddenly pieces fell into place, as he felt Meliadoul's hand on his shoulder. His hazel eyes followed the valley down from the sluice, as it wrapped around the garrison and between the gathered armies.

"Not a valley. A river bed." He said finally to himself.

"What?" Valmafra asked, perplexed.

"Izlude," Ramza began, turning to his friend. "Take your sister, Olan, and Val to the fort. Find Cid and tell him what's happening. If anyone can stop the Nanten from engaging, it's him."

"Okay, but what are you planning?"

"There's no time, just go! Alma, you and Gaff find our brother, try to stop him. Buy me as much time as you can. Meet back here when you're done."

Ramza was already climbing onto Atro, not giving them any time to argue. If they could delay the two armies for a little while longer, Ramza could stop all of this. He just needed a little time.

* * *

Delita crossed his arms over his chest, frowning across the valley in front of him at the Hokuten lines. He hadn't expected this many, but was prepared for such a setback. His only real worry was the Templars. He had no doubt he would be able to win handily, but losses would be heavy. The High Priest, as underhanded as he was, might take those losses to mean Delita was weakened. He would have to prepare for the inevitable betrayal.

He'd prepared for weeks for the end of this war, and the beginning of his rule. If the Church thought he was going to crush the Hokuten only to turn over control of Ovelia, of his new empire, they were insane. In the end it wouldn't matter what they did. Delita would rule Ivalice, and he would finally demolish the status quo that had ruled the land for centuries.

The sound of an approaching chocobo broke him from his reverie, the soldiers behind him turning to watch as Agrias approached. She rode fast, making it clear something was amiss. As the Holy Knight arrived, Delita reached up to hold the reins of her mount, his other hand landing on the woman's knee.

"What is it?"

"Ramza is here."

"Excellent! Have him briefed on the Knight Blade's mission."

"No, not here with the army. Our scouts reported that he arrived with several others, and he's now going around the fort alone."

Delita frowned, turning away from her. He could see a handful of people making their way down to the fort quickly, and Ramza's telltale black mount running along the hill.

"Why? There's nothing back there save for-" Delita began, before the realization hit him. "Ramza, you sly bastard."

* * *

The garrison was, as expected, mostly empty. The Nanten had all but left its safety, moving to battle the invading Hokuten directly. Izlude knew that the Count would be at the front lines only after he had organized everything from inside Bethla, and only hoped he would make it to the man in time.

The four of them ran through the fort, looking for any sign of the man or his Vanguard, and instead practically tripped over a pair of knights and the Princess they were protecting.

"Lavian, Alicia!" Izlude said, stumbling to a halt. "We have to find Orlandu, where is he?"

The two knights exchanged shameful looks, before turning their attention to the Princess. Ovelia was wringing her hands, staring at her feet, and Izlude didn't know what to make of that. Olan shouldered past him, looking concerned.

"Your Highness?" He asked. "Has something happened to my father?"

"It's…" Ovelia said slowly, looking up at him. "Duke Goltana was murdered. They said it was Cid and… he's been imprisoned."

Olan stood dumbstruck, his eyes wide, and for a long moment silence reigned. Finally Meliadoul slipped up to clasp the astrologer on the shoulder, drawing his gaze before she addressed the Princess.

"It wasn't him, of that I can be sure. Duke Larg was killed as well. The Count is simply being blamed for it. Can you bring us to him?"

Ovelia nodded slightly, actually looking relieved, and gestured for them to follow. Her guards, Olan, and Valmafra took off after them, but Izlude lagged behind to pull his sister to the side, speaking in a rough whisper.

"Mel, what are you doing? We have to get Ramza."

"If we don't leave with Cid, he'll be executed. The Lucavi are at work here, even if they haven't come themselves. We need to get out of the fort, and find somewhere safe, right now."

* * *

Ramza rode hard, despite his tender ribs, cool wind whipping across his face. He would have had Atro use his wings, but he didn't want to draw too much attention to his movements. No doubt he'd already been seen racing toward the rear of the fort, but he doubt anyone would guess his purpose.

Reining his mount to the side, he chanced a glance down at the assembled armies, and froze. Something was wrong. The Nanten lines had moved back far enough to goad the enemy soldiers forward, giving up the entire valley to the Northern Sky. There was no tactical reason to give up that ground, to let the Hokuten solidify their forward ranks in such a way.

"No…"

Urging the bird forward, Ramza rounded the next bend and the dam came into view. He had anticipated a handful of soldiers guarding the sluice, as there generally was, but what he saw made his heart drop. Delita himself stood atop the wall, Agrias at his side, a friendly smile on his lips.

Dismounting, Ramza walked slowly toward his childhood friend, masking his emotions. The man waved casually to him, motioning for Ramza to join him. Stopping a short distance away, the Dark Knight stared at him in silence.

"Glad you could join us, Ramza." Delita said lightly, still smiling.

"What are you doing?"

"Me? Oh, I'm going to open the floodgates in a moment."

"You can't do that."

"Why not? Is that not what you were planning on when you came here?"

"Delita, this war isn't what it seems. The Church-"

"The Church is manipulating it from the shadows? Yes, yes, I know all about that. I was the one, after all, who planned most of it."

"You plotted with them?"

"Don't look so surprised. It's not like I'm actually going to let those old men rule this country. Ramza, can't you see? I'm going to rebuild Ivalice. I'll put an end to all of this war and fear."

"You're the one who doesn't see. I promise, if you let loose this water, you're going to destroy everything you seek to build."

Delita cocked his head to the side, as if considering him for a moment. The Holy Knight then turned, took three steps, and flipped a lever on the side of the dam. A deep thud emanated from within the sluice, and the floodgates bulged slightly.

"Agrias, you have to stop him. This isn't the way."

The woman stared at him distantly, her face blank. He knew then that no amount of pleading with her would sway her hand in all of this, nor could he physically stop them. As skilled as Ramza was, he stood no chance against two Holy Knights and the Nanten guard around them.

"We're at war, Ramza, and Agrias knows this. She can see what I'm trying to do here, and why it must be done." Delita explained calmly as he made his way to the other side of the wall.

"This isn't war!" Ramza cried, gesturing to the armies below. "This is a massacre! Delita, this is madness!"

"Madness?" Delita asked, regarding his friend for a beat. "This is Ivalice."

He kicked the other lever inward, and instantly the walls holding back the river buckled. A spray of mist flew upward, dousing Ramza as he shielded his eyes. The Dark Knight spun on his heels, as the raging torrent burst forth down the hill and toward the thousands of unsuspecting Hokuten below. Ramza had failed.

* * *

**Author's Note: **And so ends _Part One: The Southern Sky._

I typed in the word madness, and I just couldn't keep myself from typing the next line. I could have added a good deal more to the scenes at Bethla, but again I wanted them to have a feel of urgency as this all came to a close. Of course not going into detail of these events also leaves questions open, which I always like. Were Alma and Gaff with Zalbag and the Hokuten when the wall of water hit? What will Ramza do now that he is no longer a Knight Blade? You'll just have to wait and find out, but I'd love to hear where you think the story might go from here.

I also added a little more Meliadoul and Ramza. Like I said in the beginning, the love story wouldn't come up for some time, and it's now beginning to push on with increasing speed. Especially in the next few chapters. I originally hadn't planned on Alma/Izlude, Val/Olan, or even the very subtle Agrias/Delita, which is up for you to decide if it's just trust that put his hand to her knee, or something more. Yet I find myself wanting to continue shipping the other two pairs more and more, as I flesh out more character for them. As dry as the game was, I love having freedom with those less seen characters.

Wanted to make a few notes in here too for a couple of you.

**darkdrow: **Honestly when I started this story, the first thing I knew is that I was going to make Ramza a DK, one way or another. It just seemed to fit in my eyes, since he would never be a Holy Knight. As far as the fights go, I'm trying to include a little more in each one to show Ramza growing in strength. I'll be taking from other familiar skills from the game often, including such fun ones as Teleport. I can't _wait_ to do what I want to with Teleport. As for more RamMel, you'll definitely see it. I'm still working out how their next romantic encounter will end, and I'm thinking of leaving it open for people to guess at what happened.

**Dark Triad: **Ramza QWOPPED into the castle I think. My music playlist when writing, which is essential, is all over the place. From Breaking Benjamin, Skillet, and some very epic rock and instrumentals for the fight scenes, to oddly enough the Tron Legacy Soundtrack. I didn't know at first what I was going to do with Alma's character, but having a sister of my own, I know that it's not all serious. Hell, it almost never is. So I went with the approach that, growing up together, they tend to pick on each other out of affection. Character interaction, to me, is more important than some epic plot. If you really care for the people in the story, really feel that they're real, you don't care if they're just baking a cake. As for Agrias, she's not a big part of the story, but she'll be in it later on, but yes it's quite the shocker. Gaff was right away designed to be something of a mentor for Ramza. I absolutely love writing his dialogue, since he's so old and sarcastic in my eyes, like I've seen some Cid's portrayed. If you liked the dual Lucavi, ha, just wait until much later. Finally, as for shipping, I'll make a new paragraph.

When I first played through the original FFT I was in my teens, and of course completely ruled by my hormones. I sat there wondering what the hell Ramza was doing. He was surrounded by girls. Agrias, Rafa, Meliadoul, Lavian and Alicia, and yet he didn't hook up with any of them. Especially Rafa, who would have jumped on him given the first chance. I don't know where my decision to ship Mel and Ramza came from actually. My first fic pairs her with a Dark Knight of my own creation, on my JaideDM account, but was never completed. I think it was just that I really liked Meliadoul for some reason. Her name, job, and character all just appealed to me. So naturally I wanted her to shack up with Ramza. It wasn't until I actually thought about it that I realized it was viable. Both have lost loved ones, and end up losing more. That alone put them closer than any other female Ramza meets. So I went with that, and slowly built Meliadoul as a confident but still feminine character. Not as cold as Agrias seemed, and with a passion I think the Holy Knight could never have.

Thank you all for reading, and I'll have Part Two up as soon as it's ready!


	14. The Resistance

**Part Two: The Great Divide**

* * *

_Darkness had fallen over the Northern Sky_

_Yet the war did not end_

_Declaring Delita a traitor and a fraud the Shrine Knights took up arms_

_We took flight to Bervenia for refuge_

_One of few free cities left in Ivalice_

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: The Resistance**

**

* * *

**

Winter came late to Bervenia, but upon arriving it made up for lost time. Ramza had grown so used to the comparative warmth of the south that he was no longer accustomed to the blistering cold, though many of the residents of the city considered it quite a normal year.

Tension ran high throughout the entire city as the Nanten took up any useful strongholds. After the Hokuten were routed at the Battle of Bethla, if it could even be called a battle, the Southern Sky swept over most of Ivalice. Lesalia fell scant days later, and reports stated that half the city had been razed to the ground. Surrender soon followed.

Outraged at Delita's betrayal, and claiming Cardinal Draclau and Dycedarg Beoulve were killed by Nanten spies, High Priest Funeral mobilized the Templars. The Fort City of Zaland quickly lost its freedom to the new Cardinal, a man named Zalmo Rusnada, and the Glabados Church solidified its defenses in the Lionel region.

The Southern Sky had set up garrisons in almost every city they could use against the Templars, and thankfully Bervenia was so deep in Nanten territory that it had been left unmolested thus far. Ramza knew the peace in this city wouldn't last, but for the past two months he had enjoyed it.

Trudging through the snow, his face wrapped in a wool scarf to keep the biting wind off of it, the Dark Knight sidled into the small shop. He kicked the powder from his boots, relishing the warmth of the hearth as the proprietor shouted for him to close the door.

Ramza set about the shop, his gaze flitting quickly across the displays in the room. His search had been fruitless so far, with two hours spent braving the cold he despised in the market district. If it hadn't been important, he wouldn't have spent so much time out in the streets. Ramza hated shopping.

"Sir, how much for this?" He asked, nodding down at the display.

The man took one glance before going back to his glass of ale, obviously not concerned about helping a customer.

"More than you can afford, boy."

"Is that so?" Ramza asked, dropping a pile of Gil on the counter. "I suppose it is. This is all I have"

"Wait, wait!" The man rescinded, greedy eyes on the coins. "It looks like that's just enough there."

Shaking his head, Ramza left the shop, leaving the door cracked open behind him to spite the man, before instantly regretting it and returning to close it. Shrugging his shoulders and striding into the wind, he made his way to the large building higher in the city. The old structure had once been a barracks for the occupying garrison, but had long since been abandoned. For Ramza's Raiders, as Izlude called them, no place could be better.

Shouldering the heavy door inward, the Dark Knight let the wind push him inside. The entrance of their home wasn't much warmer than outside, but without the wind it felt almost balmy. Ramza quickly shrugged out of his heavy outerwear, letting it fall to the floor. Normally he would have hung it, but after his jacket had fallen off the hook a day prior Alma had ranted about him not taking care of his things, so he opted to let her pick them all up this time.

Breathing into his clasped hands to warm them, Ramza slipped over toward the dining room, knowing he was probably just in time for the after supper meeting that had become a nightly ritual. He kicked the door open, sliding inside and barely avoiding the spoon that was tossed in his direction.

"You're late," Alma said, pointing at him and getting herself a new spoon. "And I swear, if your coat is on the floor again, so help me God."

Ramza simply smiled at her, pulling up a chair to sit across from his sister, near Meliadoul and her brother. The food was still warm over the fire, but he was too nervous to be hungry. He subtly glanced over at Meliadoul, only to have her soundly ignore him. She'd been quietly evasive all day, but at least he knew why.

"You're still here, brother?" Ramza asked, leaning on the table.

"Alma insisted I eat first." Zalbag answered, rolling his eyes. "I'll be heading out shortly. I'll send a message once I reach Gariland."

"Oh, I have news from my father." Olan cut in, still chewing on whatever Alma had prepared, having apparently arrived late as well.

"How is he faring?"

"Well I'd say. He and Gaff ran into man in Lesalia who might be able to help us. I didn't get many details, but there was something about a dragon and that they were headed to some temple."

"That's good. Any word from the machinists?"

"Last I heard Mustadio was preparing to leave Goug. The Templars are blockading most ships though, so he might not be able to get out easily."

"He's a smart man, he'll find a way." Meliadoul said, her voice strained. "If you'll excuse me."

The Divine Knight stood stiffly, pushing her chair in and striding quickly from the room. Izlude looked as though he wanted to follow her, thought better of it, and shot Ramza a knowing look instead.

"What did you do?" Alma asked accusingly, glaring across the table at her brother.

"Why is it everything is my fault?"

"Because it usually is."

"When I agreed to keep my mouth shut, I didn't know you'd take this long." Izlude said, rubbing his eyes wearily. "I've been hearing about it all day."

Ramza shrugged, holding up both hands in defeat. The Dark Knight slipped out of his chair, the sound of Olan chuckling cut off by Valmafra's elbow in his ribs as Ramza left the room. Taking the stairs two at a time, Ramza strode up to the second door on the second floor, and knocked quietly on the door.

"What?" Meliadoul's annoyed reply made Ramza smirk a little.

"Hey, it's me, I'm coming in." He said, making his voice as light as he possibly could.

The woman was sitting in her chair, her eyes purposefully locked onto the pages of the book in her lap. She didn't spare Ramza a glance as he closed the door behind him, and he paced around the room for a couple of minutes. Finally she shot him a look before going back to pretending to read.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing, you just seemed like something was amiss."

"I'm fine."

Ramza nodded, and continued to meander around her room for a little longer. He could practically feel the Divine Knight's annoyance as he finally ended up near her. Slipping one hand out, he dropped the length of silver onto the book. It remained there for a long moment, before Meliadoul finally looked up at him.

"What's this?"

"It appears to be a pendant."

The woman narrowed her eyes at him a moment before picking up the jewelry, closing her book and setting it aside.

"Garnet, right? That's your birthstone? You'd be surprised how hard it was to find."

"You knew today was my birthday, and you waited until now to give me this?"

"Should I give it to you tomorrow?"

"I hate you, were you aware of that?"

"I'm sure Izlude does too. He's been keeping my knowledge a secret from you all day."

Meliadoul laughed, staring down at small gemstone for a long moment. Ramza smiled, and was preparing to say goodnight and slip out of the room, when she burst from her chair. He wasn't prepared for the arms around his neck, as the woman quickly kissed his neck before stepping back.

"You and Alma are the only ones who seem to realize I'm a girl as well as a knight." She said with a laugh. "She got me perfume. My brother bought me a dagger."

"Ah, the famous Izlude Dagger. I have two of them."

Smiling, the woman handed him the necklace and turned away, pulling her hair off of her neck. Ramza fumbled with the chain for a moment around her neck, finally fastening it. Meliadoul turned and looked around, a rueful twist to her lips, and Ramza realized she was wishing for a mirror.

Taking a step back, Ramza reached down, drawing his sword smoothly. He held it aloft, tip to the ceiling, to allow her to use its surface to see her reflection. Meliadoul laughed as she looked herself over, before her hand came up to the blade.

The woman pushed it to Ramza's chest, leaning against it at the same time. Her lips were gentle as they brushed against his, her other arm snaking around his neck. Ramza felt his free hand drop to her waist, unconsciously pulling her against him.

It didn't take but a moment for one appreciative meeting of lips to turn into several, and Ramza found himself slowly pushing the woman back until they met the cold stone wall. Sword still pinned between them, they remained locked together, one of Meliadoul's legs wrapping around his, for the better part of a minute.

Finally, taking a deep breath, Meliadoul broke contact, letting her head fall against the wall. Smirking, the woman took Ramza's sword from his grasp, and with the blind skill only a capable knight could have, sheathed it for him without a glance.

"You won't need that." She said quietly, tugging free the belt that housed it.

* * *

What would normally be quite a bleak, dark night instead seemed nearly as bright as the day that preceded it. After sunset the clouds had broken, giving the full moon the power to light up the snow covered streets below. Izlude wrapped his coat tighter around his chest, thankful that the frigid wind had left with the clouds.

He often escaped to the top of the fort late at night, especially after the first snow fell. Bervenia was a beautiful city when it wasn't packed with people. It was more quiet and peaceful than anywhere he had been before. That wasn't the real reason he came to the roof, however.

"You're lucky I don't mind the cold." Alma said as she clambered out her bedroom window, not far from him.

As always the girl carried two thick wool blankets over one shoulder, even when Izlude insisted he didn't need one. She'd been outside only seconds and already a rosy hue had slipped into her cheeks, as it always did when she went out. Izlude noticed every little detail when it came to Alma, though he never mentioned it.

The knight smiled at her before letting his gaze travel out over the city. Alma took a moment to lay her blanket on the faintly sloped roof before dropping onto it, wrapping the thick wool around her shoulders and tossing Izlude's blanket onto his lap. After a few seconds the man swung it over his back as well.

"Have you seen Ramza? Did he go out again after dinner?"

"He went to give my sister her present."

"So he did remember! Is he still with her?"

"I assume so."

"Ah." The woman said with a smirk. "She's probably expressing her gratitude."

Izlude shot her a cold glare, to which Alma raised an eyebrow innocently.

"I thought you were raised in a monastery."

"Why, Sir Izlude!" Alma replied with mock surprise. "Are you calling my innocence into question?"

Rolling his eyes and smiling, the young knight stared out across Bervenia, as a companionable silence fell between them. He never knew what to say to Alma during the nights they retreated to the rooftop, so they usually just sat quietly together, enjoying the company. After several minutes Alma sighed, pulling her blanket tighter around her.

"It really is beautiful here. Pity it might be the last free city in Ivalice." She said softly.

Izlude nodded silently, trying his best to keep Alma's face in the corner of his eye without her noticing. Even after living with the girl for weeks he was still nervous, unsure of what to do or say to express himself. He hated himself for being a coward, and not speaking openly with her. It was obvious the girl enjoyed being around him, otherwise she wouldn't brave the elements just to sit with him. Yet he couldn't bring himself to say anything to her.

"Izlude," She began, turning to face him. "What are you going to do, when all of this is over?"

"You mean the war?"

"Yes. What will you do when we've defeated the Lucavi?"

Izlude loved her confidence. It was never a question of if they could destroy the demons and emerge victorious; it was simply a matter of when to Alma. He wished, often, that he could be so sure of their future.

"I honestly don't know." He said quietly, staring at the streets below. "I suppose I wouldn't mind just doing this, when all is said and done."

"Sitting on a roof in the dead of winter?" Alma asked with a laugh, her smile lighting up the night.

"If it's with you, yes." Izlude replied before he could catch himself.

Alma's smile slipped away, her expression turning thoughtful. Ignoring her completely, the knight stared straight ahead, silently cursing himself for ever opening his mouth. For a long moment neither of them spoke, and Izlude sat waiting for her to get up and walk away. He'd been wrong about how she felt, and stupid, and now he'd ruined everything between them.

He was so wrapped up in insulting himself internally that he didn't notice Alma slide closer to him. It wasn't until he felt her hand slip into his, the girl twining their fingers together, that he snapped out of it. Alma leaned over, her cool lips brushing gently against his cheek, before resting her head on his shoulder.

"Me too."

Izlude didn't feel the cold after that, nor did he care if he froze to death beneath the full moon.

* * *

Illuminated by the moon, Agrias jerked her sword free, blood splattering over the soft powder as the man fell in a heap. For a long moment the Holy Knight stared at the drops of crimson marring the perfect white surface, her thoughts leading her nowhere in particular. She'd long since grown numb to the killing, as cold as the winter night when it came to her life.

Wiping and sheathing her blade, the woman wedged her toe beneath the man's shoulder, flipping the priest onto his back. She gazed down at his blank stare, curious just what the man saw in his final moments, before turning away.

"Lady Oaks," One of the Knight Blades approached her, sheathing his weapon as well. "Your orders?"

Agrias yanked the tunic free of her belt, rubbing the cloth between her fingers for a moment before tossing it next to the fallen priest. The Templar symbol embossed onto the tunic would shift the attention onto the Church, furthering her mission of dissention. She wished she could see the Cardinal's face when it was discovered next to a dozen dead clergy.

"Burn it." Agrias said calmly, leaving her Blades to finish up.

Several minutes later, as she enjoyed the warmth from the blaze that consumed the church outside of Dorter, Agrias noticed riders approaching. She waved for the knights with her to stand down, walking purposefully toward the chocobos. She recognized the man even from a distance, which always contributed to his presence on the battlefield.

"Lady Oaks." The ruler of Limberry nodded to her, a small smile touching his lips.

"Marquis Elmdore. What brings you here? I thought your men were stationed in Gariland."

"We're marching to the North." The Silver Noble explained, glancing at the burning structure near them. "We make for Bervenia."

"Really? To what end?"

"Lord Hyral believes the Beoulve may have taken refuge there. It's time we took control of the city."

Ramza Beoulve. Agrias hadn't heard mention of the former commander of the Blades in months, and neither had his old soldiers. The knights around her fell silent immediately, and Agrias knew why. Despite his defection and the fact he managed to save dozens of Hokuten after the Battle of Bethla, the Blades still held him in high regard. Heretic and traitor he may be, but he was still without a doubt a great leader.

"Laying siege for one man? That hardly seems worth the effort."

"Come now, we both know he's not just another deserter." Elmdore replied with a grin. "Besides, Hyral wants to strengthen our inner defenses in the North. Bervenia is a loose end."

"I suppose so, though I don't agree with him taking troops from the front lines. The fight is here, not in the North."

"You'll have to take that up with him then."

"Believe me, I shall."

The Marquis dismissed himself, taking one last look at the crumbling church before he turned and rode back to his vanguard. Agrias watched as the man left, her mind wandering, before she gathered her Knight Blades and prepared to set out.

* * *

Sunlight filtered through the window and onto Meliadoul's bare back as Ramza lie on his side, silently looking over at her. The woman was still fast asleep, sprawled out on her stomach with the blanket covering her legs. The Dark Knight knew he should get up, but upon waking he couldn't help but stay in Meliadoul's bed.

Lightly tracing one finger down the woman's spine, Ramza found his mind was gloriously free from worry for the first time in what seemed an eternity. Lying there next to the Divine Knight, he found it easier to forget the war that ravaged the country. He could simply stare at the curve of her spine, or the way her dark hair fell over her shoulder, and pretend he wasn't bogged down with the responsibility.

A gentle rapping at the door drew his gaze, and for a moment Ramza panicked. The only person he thought might come knocking this early in the morning would be Izlude, and it wasn't likely the man would be pleased to find Ramza had spent the night with his sister.

Gently the Dark Knight slipped from the bed and walked to the door, thankful he was at least half dressed. Even if it was Izlude, there was nothing he could do but answer. It would be better if he came to the door than if his friend stormed in and saw things for himself.

Quietly Ramza pulled the door inwards, leaning out just enough to spot Olan smiling at him. Sighing in relief, he slipped out into the corridor. The astrologist crossed both arms over his chest, that wry smile still on his lips.

"Alma told me I might find you here."

"Yes, well, erm, what is it?"

"Cid and Gaff are back. They brought someone to meet you."

"Did they?" Ramza asked, fighting down the flush in his face. "I'll be right down."

"Is Mel coming?"

"No, I'll let her sleep."

"Yeah, she probably needs it, right?" Olan grinned at him before walking away.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Ramza sighed and set off for his room. He hadn't intended anyone to know of his relationship with the Divine Knight. Trying not to think about it for now, he quickly dressed and jogged down the stairs. Olan, Gaff, and Cid had taken a seat in the dining room as Alma prepared an early breakfast. It seemed Valmafra and Izlude had yet to come down either, which was a relief.

Seated next to Orlandu were a man and a woman Ramza didn't know. He nodded briefly to them as he took a seat. The man was obviously a knight, his sword still hitched at his side. The woman seemed rather detached, her gaze far off as she absently played with the hem of her dress, as though she was unused to the cloth.

"So you're Ramza Beoulve?" The man said appraisingly. "You have quite a reputation for a man your age."

"Oh, don't inflate his ego." Alma shot from where she cooked.

"Ignore the serving wench." Ramza said lightly, flinching in anticipation of a thrown utensil. "Who might you be?"

"My name is Beowulf Kadmus, and this is Reis Dular."

"Kadmus? I know that name."

"Beowulf used to be in charge of the Templars." Cid explained.

"Ah, that's why."

"Indeed." Beowulf said with a sigh. "That was before the Temple Knights lost their way."

"He has agreed to help us." Gaff said, resting his head on the back of his chair and closing his eyes.

To confirm this, the former Templar reached into his tunic, pulling a stone out and placing them on the table. Silence fell upon the room as Ramza stared at Aquarius, biting down on his lower lip before glancing at Cid.

"How?"

"Sheer luck as it were." The man replied with a chuckle. "We ran into Beowulf and agreed to help him. We didn't know it would also bring us these. There's something else to be discussed, as well."

Orlandu turned his gaze to Beowulf, nodding for him to speak. The man hesitated for a long moment, his eyes searching those of his lover, before he gave Ramza his attention.

"Reis was afflicted by a curse, that Lord Orlandu and Gafgarion helped me lift, but that's not as importance as the _how_ of it."

"I'm afraid I do not follow." Ramza said, perplexed.

"It was this." The former Templar said, hefting Aquarius. "The stone was the power that returned her to a human form."

"So they're not necessarily evil, as we had suspected."

"I'm inclined to believe so." Said Cid, rubbing the stubble on his jaw. "It's my theory that the stones are a gateway, but not to hell as I had once believed. I think the power of the stone is tempered by the wielder."

Ramza thought on this for a long moment, filing the information away deep into his mind. It was good news, that was certain. The stones evil presence was something that had gnawed at him as long as they carried them. There was always a worry that Lucavi would find a way to seduce even him.

"You have the Scriptures, don't you?" Beowulf asked suddenly, before Ramza could speak.

"What?" Ramza asked, his gaze leaping to Orlandu to see the man was as surprised as he.

"The Templars have been searching for the Germonik Scriptures for months, though they haven't even heard a whisper of their whereabouts. May I see them?"

Ramza locked eyes with Cid, the old knight replying with a shrug. It was dangerous to just hand the book over to a man he had just met. All it would take is a moment for the book to be destroyed.

"I understand why you would be wary." Beowulf said. "I am no longer a Templar, young Beoulve. I left that life behind long ago, when they betrayed me. I ask you to trust me."

The Dark Knight stared thoughtfully at the man for a long moment, before turning and nodding once to Olan. The astrologist rose from the table and excused himself. Ramza could believe the conviction in the man's eyes. He could see the truth in his gaze.

"Welcome to the resistance."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Sex! I originally was torn between leaving Ramza and Meliadoul's smooshing open ended, so one would have to wonder if they actually went to bed or just did some heavy petting. In the end I realized that now was the time to put it in if I was going to, before the story picks up steam again. So was it fitting? Or too forced and badly placed? Still deciding if Alma and Izlude should stay more of an innocent romance, or step up to the next level. Thoughts? Consider this a 'catch-up' chapter, to show the beginning of what happened after Bethla.

Taking a moment now to thank Dark Triad and Caellach Tiger Eye. Dark mentioned this once and Caellach sent me a Message with the same, concerning FFXII Espers. It'd been so long since I played the game that I totally spaced off the Lucavi being Espers in that game, and it's a good thing they pointed it out to me. It turns out one of the Espers fits perfectly with something I had in mind for an original Lucavi, it couldn't have turned out better. So that goes to show: Reviewing changes things.

Also the fan appreciation for Ram/Mel and Izlude/Alma contributed to the stepping up of both pairings. I hadn't expected Alma and Izlude to be popular, but I like the pair as well, so expect to see more of it as the story goes. Group orgy? Probably a little Valmafra and Olan too, since I look forward to writing some of the backstory for Val.

**Edit: 3-14-2011-** Added a small scene explaining that it was Aquarius, not Cancer, that restored Reis to her human form and removed Cancer from the story, as it's not actually in their possession. This was a mistake on my part that was pointed out by a reviewer thankfully _before _I included the Cancer stone once more. I had written up something about Cancer not being there, but lost that part of this chapter and forgot my other plans for the stone when I added it in here. Mistakes suck!


	15. Free People

**Chapter Fifteen: Free People**

**

* * *

**

"My Lady, we have arrived."

Squinting against the glare of the sun, Ovelia hooded her eyes with one gloved hand, handing the reins of her mount to the female knight at her side. The Queen dismounted carefully, her thighs sore from the long ride. The cold air was refreshing, and she was quite pleasantly bundled up to counter the elements.

"Thank you Alicia." Ovelia said, pulling her wool cloak tighter around her shoulders.

In the interest of secrecy the new Queen of Ivalice had dressed in the attire of a common girl, as had the pair of St. Konoe that accompanied her. The only thing that could identify her as Royalty was the brooch that held her cloak in place, which she kept covered except when she found it necessary to get past the Nanten patrols. No doubt Delita had heard of her jaunt from Lesalia, but she didn't much care.

"Come in, please." The third knight, and the only man in their group, held the door open, ushering her inside.

Ovelia nodded, took a deep breath, and slipped into the rather large building. There was little to make the building feel like a home, but instantly the woman felt more at ease than she had in months. Slowly removing her cloak and hanging it on a hook nearby, the Queen followed the male knight inside, her vanguard taking their position on either side.

She heard the sound of laughter as they approached the large room not far from the front door, as well as several conversations occurring all at once. The Queen couldn't help but smile, and it took several moments for her to force her lips back down as they reached the room.

There was no fanfare as the four of them slipped into the large dining room, for this was not a visit from the Queen of Ivalice. Ovelia came as a friend, and hoped she could still be accepted as one. The room fell instantly still when she stepped into the room, every pair of eyes locked onto her. Silence held the room for a long moment, before Alma burst from her chair and ran to her.

Ovelia was nearly knocked backward as the girl collided with her, pulling the Queen into a tight embrace, laughing. That smile returned to the Queen's face as she slipped her arms around her friends, her gaze travelling the room. Olan, Valmafra, and Cid sat at one end of the table, Izlude and Meliadoul not far from them. A man and woman she couldn't name sat together, talking quietly. Ovelia knew there were more in the resistance living here in Bervenia, but they seemed to be gone, including the man responsible for it all.

"Brother," Alma began, her attention shifting to Zalbag. "You didn't tell me you were off catching us a Queen."

"I wasn't. Her Majesty found me." The knight explained, shrugging. "Where is Ramza?"

"He's off with Gaff somewhere along the south wall of the city."

"I'll fetch him for you, My Lady." Zalbag bowed slightly to Ovelia before departing.

Alma smiled, taking her friend's hand and practically dragging her to the large table. Lavian and Alicia followed silently, looking a little out of place until Izlude motioned them over. The two women slipped over to sit with the man who once helped save them, as Ovelia dropped next to Alma.

"Funny that Zalbag is so formal with you when he was fighting to _keep_ you from the throne." Olan said with a wry smile, sipping his drink.

"He's a man of honor." Cid noted quietly. "Even in defeat he has respect for the crown."

Cid smiled over at her, and she did her best to smile back. The scar along the old man's cheek was a testament to his escape from Bethla, which she had been there to witness. Delita was unaware of the role she and the St. Konoe had played in helping him, and the guilt over the Nanten men who died in the process still weighed heavily on her.

"I was wondering," She began quietly, absently fingering her brooch. "How is it you all made it here? I was certain I'd never see any of you again…"

"It's all thanks to Ramza." Olan explained, leaning back in his chair. "We made it out of the fort only to run into dozens of soldiers. With my father wounded and outnumbered as we were, I didn't believe we would survive."

"Ramza saved you?"

"He saved all of us." Alma said with a smile. "Along with many of the Hokuten who would have been killed after we were hit with the wall of water."

"How?" The mysterious man asked, leaning on one arm. "Apologies, Your Highness, I'm as curious as you."

"You heard of our escape Beowulf?" Olan asked.

"Rumors, mostly. One can only give so much credit to the words in a bar, however."

"What did you hear?" The astrologist pressed on, interested.

"Story goes that he swept down from the fort with more force than the water that preceded him. They say he fought off hundreds of Nanten soldiers so that the Hokuten could regroup and retreat."

"Hundreds?" Alma replied, laughing. "I wouldn't give him that much credit. After the river was loosed, it was difficult for the Nanten to mount an offensive, not that it was really needed. We were lucky to be in the back with Zalbag and his knights, because most men caught in the wave were killed or cast miles downstream."

"Ramza did what he could though." Valmafra added. "He ran right into the freezing water, trying to save whoever he could, and he did fight off many of the Southern Sky that came for him. I've never seen someone dive headlong into danger like that to save people who would have killed him an hour prior, given the chance."

"That sounds like the Ramza I remember." Lavian said with a laugh, drawing Ovelia's gaze.

The two knights were smiling, as was everyone else, she realized. Thinking back, that was the same Ramza she had met too, when he protected her from the very soldiers he had saved at Bethla. Of all the things that were changing, she took comfort in knowing he hadn't.

The door behind her suddenly opened, and Ovelia turned to see the topic of conversation, Gaff and Zalbag with him. He smiled slightly, bowing before he moved to sit next to Meliadoul. Ovelia watched him intently, noticing that he casually slipped his hand over to take the Divine Knight's hand.

"It's a pleasure to see you again Your Majesty." He said lightly, his gaze darting to Cid. "Who do you think Delita sent?"

"My guess would be the Marquis." Cid replied, absently rubbing his beard. "His men are the easiest to mobilize without weakening their defenses."

"Wait," Ovelia interrupted, confused. "You _kne_w Delita was sending an army here?"

"Well, not exactly." Ramza said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "We suspected that, eventually, he would march troops on Bervenia. I'd hoped we would have more time to prepare."

"Prepare?" The Queen asked, incredulous. "You can't fight him! I came here to warn you of the attack, to help you escape!"

"We've nowhere to escape to, My Lady." Ramza said solemnly. "Bervenia might be the last free place in Ivalice, where else will we go?"

"There aren't even ten of you in this room." She replied, eyes wide. "How will you stand up against an entire legion?"

"I'm sure we'll think of something." Olan added with a small shrug.

"Ramza," Ovelia began, her voice soft. "I'm begging you not to do this."

"I am sorry, but this is what we have to do. It wouldn't be much of a resistance if we simply turned and ran. If it was me Delita was after, I would leave the city in peace, but I don't believe that's the case."

The Queen just stared at him, shocked. The corner of the man's lips lifted into a smirk, and as she glanced about the room Ovelia realized not a one of them seemed to have a problem with his words. This had all been discussed already, and every single soul in the room was ready to fight both the Southern Sky and the Church, if need be.

"Ovelia." Alma said gently. "We're not enemies of the Southern Sky, and we could never be _your_ enemy, but our path is different. We can't explain why, you just have to trust us. When all of this is over I promise I'll explain everything to you."

The Queen turned her attention to the girl, confused and in awe at their conviction. She'd never been as sure of anything as they were, and not a one expressed any doubt. They honestly believed they could fight an army, and just from their confidence Ovelia was beginning to wonder if they really _could_.

* * *

"Try not to look so out of place." Valmafra said, casually leaning back in her chair.

"It disturbs me that you _don't_ feel out of place here." Olan shot back, glancing around the dimly lit room.

He didn't much care for Riovanes, even if it was still a city that hadn't sworn fealty to either of the two powers fighting for control of Ivalice. The city was dark and dangerous, and the tavern that the sorceress had taken them to seemed to embody the city perfectly. Everywhere he looked Olan saw the kind of people he wouldn't want to stumble across alone.

"I wasn't always working for the High Confessor."

"You've yet to shine any light on that, I might add."

"I believe I told you not to ask."

"I'm not asking, merely pointing it out. Though I'd like to ask, if I was allowed." The astrologist said with a small smile.

"Leave it alone Olan. Please."

Nodding, the young man sat back, trying his best to look as though he belonged in such a seedy locale. He began to rap his fingers lightly on the top of the table at which the two of them sat, until a glare from the woman finally stopped him.

"You really want to know?"

"It's been bothering me for weeks."

Sighing, Valmafra sat up, clasping her hands together on the table. For a long moment she stared down at her fingers, absently twining them together.

"Have you heard of Kamyuja?" She asked, glancing at him without turning her head.

"I'm afraid not."

"The Kamyuja are a group of assassins controlled by Grand Duke Barinten. The Duke gathers children from all over the land who have special talents, and raises them to kill for him. The training is... harrowing, and not all of them survive."

"You were one of those children, weren't you?" Olan asked, the pieces slowly falling into place.

"I was." Valmafra nodded solemnly. "Barinten noticed that as a child I had an affinity for magic, long before most would. I was an orphan then, though I remember little of it. He brought me here to Riovanes, and I trained mostly with two other magically talented children, a brother and sister. It's likely they still live here."

"Are they the friends you spoke of?"

"No, no, they're too loyal to the Duke. I wouldn't ask something like this of them."

"Well what happened to you? What made you decide to join the Church instead?"

"Her unshakable faith in God, perhaps?" A woman asked from behind them, humor evident in her voice.

"Or maybe it was because Barinten made a pass at her, and she broke his wrist?" The second voice was almost identical to the first, as the two women walked around the table.

They stood side by side, facing Olan and Valmafra, and the resemblance between them was uncanny. They had to be twins, or at least sisters, from what Olan could guess. The women were scantily clad for the weather, their stomachs visible beneath the open coat they wore. Many of the men in the room watched them with obvious interest, but none of the brigands dared to approach this pair.

"Celia, Lede." Valmafra said with a slight nod. "Still keen on eavesdropping I see."

"You've gotten lazy over the years. The old Val wasn't so easy to sneak up on." Celia said with a smirk, pulling a chair for her partner before sitting.

"I left all that behind, you know that."

"Yet, my dear, that brings up an interesting question." Lede noted. "Why have you come here? You know the Duke will lose his mind if he hears of this."

"By the time he does, I will be gone, hopefully with both of you."

The two women looked at each other, and Olan swore they must have been speaking mind to mind, for they broke eye contact at the exact same moment. The two women leaned onto one elbow in unison, still smiling.

"Word has it…" Celia began, only to have her twin complete the sentence. "You've thrown in your lot with the heretic and rebel, Ramza Beoulve."

"I have."

"Ah, this is interesting." Lede finished, grinning.

"Who is this, if I may ask? Found a new heart to break, have you?" Celia added, nodding to Olan.

Valmafra fixed the assassin with an icy glare, before reaching into her bag to retrieve the Gil. Dropping the sack of coin onto the table between them, she sat back, crossing her arms and raising both eyebrows. The women glanced at each other for only a moment before they both smiled again, Lede leaning forward to push the sack away.

"Keep your money. We'll help you, if only to see if the famous Lion of the South is worthy of his reputation."

"As you wish. When can you depart?" Val asked.

"Have a few drinks, on us, while we prepare."

The women left after that, and Olan still got the impression the two women were silently making jokes between each other. They seemed as though they were in on the same secret, and found it incredibly amusing. It made him more than a little nervous, and he didn't trust them in the least. Waiting until he was sure they were out of earshot, the young man turned to Valmafra.

"What did she mean by 'a new heart to break'?" He asked with a smirk.

"Don't start, Olan."

"Oh come on! You can't leave that hanging in the air! Who was he?"

"It was no 'he'."

"Wait, what?" Olan asked, confusion etched in his features. "You mean… _her_?"

"Not exactly." Valmafra replied, shifting uncomfortably.

Olan stared at her for a long moment. He'd grown better at reading the woman in the time they had been living in Bervenia, and he realized he was seeing inside much more than he ever had. Even then, it took him a moment to fully grasp her words.

"_Both of them?"_

_

* * *

_

Ramza leaned against the table, examining the maps strewn out in front of him. The initial preparations had been made, though there was still much to be done before the Marquis arrived with his army. It had fallen upon Ramza to organize the defense of the city, though most in the city weren't even aware they needed defended.

The members of the resistance had gathered in the large dining room, either seated at the table or, like the two women Valmafra had returned with, standing against the wall. Ramza took his seat again, trying to organize his thoughts as he laid out his plans.

"Zalbag, how many Hokuten do you have left?"

"A hundred, maybe, living throughout the city."

"The Nanten will have to come through here." Ramza said, pointing at the map in front of them. "The pass to the north is the only way they can reach Bervenia without succumbing to the elements. It's the most logical route, agreed?"

Most of the others nodded, and Ramza continued.

"I need you to take your men there tonight. Try to slow them down. Buy us as much time as you can."

"We'll make them wish they'd come over open ground." The elder Beoulve said with a smile, anticipating the battle to come.

"When they do get out of the pass, we have to keep them funneled. Elmdore's army is mostly composed of reservists, with his own men comprising the core. They aren't well trained, but they have numbers. We need to separate the Marquis from them, and I believe I know just the way."

Quickly Ramza explained his plan to the others, careful to note their expression as he spoke. Most of them seemed to find it sound, though the sour look on Gaff's face spoke volumes of the man's opinions. Because of this the old knight was the first one Ramza called on when he was finished.

"No offense, boy, but I've led men. This old duffer should agree with me when I say you're not experienced with this sort of thing." He said, jutting his thumb toward Cid. "You're a skilled warrior, but how often have you been in charge of hundreds of soldiers?"

"I haven't." Ramza conceded, holding his hand up before Meliadoul or Izlude, who both looked mutinous, could come to his defense. "This is why I'm leaving it to you and Cid. You have the wisdom when it comes to large scale combat that I lack."

"What will you do then?" Olan asked casually, raising an eyebrow.

"Marquis Elmdore's personal escort is only a few men, but they're very well disciplined and powerful. I plan to see to them, but I'll need help. Do any of you have any experience with the ways of combat from the East?"

"We do." Celia and Lede answered as one, still leaning against the stone wall next to each other.

"Then you two will be with me. I'm no expert, but I did enough training that I should be able to stand against them."

The twins grinned, glancing at each other. Ramza wasn't sure how much he could trust the assassins, but Valmafra had confidence in them, and her judgement was sound. There really was no other choice than to rely on them if his plan was to succeed.

"We can't win with just the remainder of Zalbag's men to help us." Izlude said, shrugging.

Ramza had been trying to think of a solution to that problem the entire day, but hadn't yet stumbled across one. He refused to consider this battle a loss before it even started, but his friend was right. No matter how well he planned, they needed more swords.

"Ask the people here."

All eyes shifted to the door, where Ovelia stood, her hands clasped in front of her. The Queen had opted to stay for as long as was possible, to help in any way that she could. Having no talent for war, she knew no strategies to help them, but still she remained to offer aid to her friends.

"Would they even help us?" Olan asked, turning his gaze to Ramza. "We were branded traitors by the Southern Sky. Free City or not, I doubt they'd be happy to discover we've been living in secret here."

"One way or another they're going to find out. We may as well make it on our own terms." Ramza replied, his mind racing. "Mel, you worked here before, right? Do you know the Lord of Bervenia?"

"There isn't one. The city is run by an elected committee of seven men. It's possibly the only city not ruled by the aristocracy in Ivalice. But, yes, I know them."

"I need to speak with them, immediately." The Dark Knight said, turning his attention to Ovelia. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I was wrong to insist that you leave right away. You've been a great help at your own personal risk, and I appreciate that more than you could possibly know."

* * *

Though Bervenia's leadership was composed of elected officials, the nobility still held most of the sway in the city. Families as large and as renowned as Ramza's own had lived in the city for generations, and it was those men and women he needed to reach. Dozens of the aristocracy had gathered side by side with common merchants and craftsmen, and Bervenia was the only city where such mingling would be seen.

The gathering had taken place in the largest building in the city, which was ironically the Church of Glabados. Quickly it was filled to standing room only, hundreds of eyes upon Ramza as he stood at the front of the room. The people gathered in the large room may not have recognized him, but they definitely took note of Zalbag and Cid, standing to his left.

Standing in silence, Ramza and his company waited until the chatter began to die down, the Dark Knight taking a calming breath. He was never much for public speaking. He felt Meliadoul take his right hand, squeezing it reassuringly before releasing, and he stepped forward.

"My name is Ramza Beoulve."

Hushed voices overcame the room, as those who had been summoned spoke quietly amongst themselves. Ramza half expected them to cry out for blood, for he was labeled both a traitor and a heretic, and there was no doubt a reward for his capture. Yet only moments later quiet was restored as Cid cleared his throat.

"For the past two months I have been conducting raids on both the Southern Sky and the Templars, in opposition to this war. I refute the claims of Lord Hyral and his armies, and those of the Cardinal. Ivalice is not their playground. This land was built upon greater principals than those of the men who wish to rule, and I will not stand idly by and watch it be bled dry for their ambition."

He was walking a fine line, openly admitting his opposition of the Nanten and the Church, but pure honesty was his the only way to make the people of Bervenia see the truth. Taking a breath, he continued, before any could make a remark.

"Nanten soldiers march on Bervenia even now, and if it was my head they sought I would have left immediately, on that you have my word. This _free_ city has stood the testament of time, remaining independent in both Fifty-Year War and the much bloodier one that followed. I would not risk your safety for my own."

Ramza could tell by the expressions on the faces of those gathered that he had surprised them. Very few knew of the men that marched toward their city, and fewer had expected the respect and selflessness of one of the most dangerous traitors in Ivalice.

"It is not, however, our resistance they seek to silence. The Southern Sky comes here for your city, regardless of who resides within it. They seek to control this stronghold, to use it to further their own ends. I have no wish to see this city be struck with the same fate as Lesalia, which will never again reach glory it once held."

There were more whispers, and Ramza gave them time to speak to each other as he gathered his thoughts. It was still uncertain whether or not his words would reach them, but he had no choice but to press on.

"The way I see it, you have two choices. The armies of the Southern Sky will come, of that you can be certain. Are you willing to hand your lives over to them without incident, or fight for the freedom you've enjoyed for centuries? I can promise you there will be no freedom once Nanten soldiers walk these streets, and your freedom is something we are willing to fight for. If I died fighting to keep the tyranny from this city, the city I have come to call home these past months, I would go to God without regret, for I fought to protect what we all hold most dear."

The Dark Knight paused, and silence hung thick in the room. No longer were the gazes of the citizens of Bervenia drawn to Orlandu or Ramza's bother, but instead every eye was locked directly onto the young Beoulve's face. This traitor, this heretic, had offered up his own life to both them and God without the slightest hesitation, in defense of their city. The final word he spoke, that which every man held dear, was delivered with little more than a whisper, but it was easily heard throughout the entire room.

"Freedom."

* * *

**Author's Note:** You know I honestly didn't plan on writing one of these after every chapter, but old habits die hard and I always find something I want to comment on.

I wanted to address the issue of Mel and Ramza from Fourteen. I really didn't want to rush them going to bed together, but the constraints of where the story is going played a big factor, as well as the nature of their relationship. From what little we see of Meliadoul in the game, she's very passionate when it comes to life. Her reaction to Izlude's death, or really any of her lines, are delivered with emotion instead of logic. Ramza is very similar in that his actions are from the heart more than the head. You mix that together and, I feel, it makes for some very strong heat, if I can use the term. But if the story wasn't going the way I plan it to, I definitely would have slowed their romance down a bit. We have Alma and Izlude for the younger, more innocent love though.

And onto the actual chapter I just finished. Freedom. Was it too cliché? I try to avoid them at every instance, and generally go out of my way to keep it out of my work, but I honestly saw it fitting here. Bervenia was called the free city, and to me that means they are their own people, and would hold that freedom in the highest regard. I struggled with it for a couple of hours though.

Basically this chapter is just build-up for the battle to follow in the next one, with some small insight into Valmafra and a quick reveal of what happened at Bethla. Then we have Celia and Lede. I had those two in mind when I got a little way into the story, and knew I wanted to use them. Lucavi can't enter the human world without a host unless Altima is reborn, right? So it stands to reason they were both human at one time, and were possessed by demons. It made sense that since Val was an assassin, she could very well have worked for Barinten, as they may as well. The decision that Val had some sort of a relationship with not one but both of the twins came from left field, however, and once I had it written I couldn't help but leave it in. Poor, inexperienced Olan.


	16. The Battle for Bervenia

**Chapter Sixteen: The Battle for Bervenia**

* * *

Mesdoram Elmdore held up his hand, halting the procession as they exited the pass. Narrowing his eyes, the Marquis surveyed the land in front of him, his interest bringing forth the Nanten commanders serving him. The path had been cleared ahead of them, and he was certain the work was not done by human hands.

What was once several feet of hard packed was now cleared down to the hoarfrost, every speck of snow moved to the sides. A wall of powder rose higher than the man's head upon his mount, on both sides of the path. It was the work of sorcery, and no small feat. The Silver Noble let his gaze travel from the wall of snow to the path in front of them, which led curiously to the front gate of Bervenia, open and inviting.

"This won't be much of a battle it seems." One of his aides said, laughing. "They not only invite us in, but they clear the road as well."

"Then what of the resistance we met in the pass?" Elmdore asked the man, his eyes locked on the city.

"Local brigands with no respect. Nothing more than that."

The Marquis wasn't certain he agreed with his lieutenant. The men that harried them during their trek through the pass had been organized and with purpose. It seemed unlikely that they happened to be a band of rogues. It was no coincidence that they had been given such easy access to the city, especially if Ramza Beoulve was indeed within its walls.

Mesdoram had fought alongside the Lion of the South before, in one of the early battles of the war. He'd seen the boy and his Blades in action, and it was likely their presence had been the deciding factor in the Battle of the Fuse Plains. Ramza was no brigand, and he would not simply hand Bervenia over without a fight.

Perhaps the decision hadn't been his to make. He was a notorious deserter, after all. The people of Bervenia may have exiled him already, or perhaps they even planned to turn the heretic over to the Southern Sky to answer for his crimes. Elmdore turned, motioning one of his commanders forward.

"I require your soldiers."

"Yes, my lord." The man said, bowing deeply.

While the reserve soldiers began to form up, Mesdoram called his own guard forward. The seven men rode to his side, taking positions all around the Marquis. His most trusted seven were a gift from his home in the Far East, where Mesdoram had learned the art of war. Each of the samurai were skilled swordsmen, and fearless.

"I'll take no chances with this. Take up positions to defend the entrance of the pass, and have contingent of men ready to storm the city, should I require it." The Marquis passed the order on, and quickly his entire army began to reform the ranks.

Mesdoram, his seven samurai, and the men he had called forward marched toward the gates of Bervenia. The Marquis knew not what game Ramza Beoulve was playing, if there was one at all, but he wasn't simply going to march his army into the city, without seeing inside it himself.

* * *

The Marquis rode into the city without fanfare, his most trusted seven ready at his side. Ramza took in the numbers of the soldiers that followed instantly, and was concerned by them. He hadn't expected the Marquis to bring so many with him into the city. He'd planned on either a very small contingent, or the entire force. The Beoulve crouched, dusting snow off the edge of the roof upon which he was perched, and nodded to the Hokuten knight hidden in the street near him. The man set off briskly, passing down the order to engage.

So far all had gone to plan, and Elmdore seemed oblivious to the trap that he had stepped into. He'd been more cautious than Ramza had anticipated, but it wouldn't change anything. The Dark Knight kept his gaze locked on the approaching soldiers as they cleared the gate, the Marquis waving them to a halt just inside the city. Elmdore continued forward, unwittingly bringing his personal samurai over the black line that ran across the entrance to the courtyard.

There was no signal to be given, no shouted call to arms. Without any warning the gate to Bervenia fell closed with a massive crash, and the line of oil spread between Mesdoram and his soldiers burst into flame. From out of sight Valmafra stoked the fire, creating a searing wall behind the Marquis and sending his inexperienced men into panic.

Ramza stood, taking a deep breath. What happened outside of the city was out of his hands, but it still tugged at the back of his mind. As concerned as he was, he knew he could trust the others to handle the bulk of the army. His place was here.

* * *

Brilliant, pure white surrounded Izlude as he closed his eyes, listening to the breathing of the other men around him. They remained silent, aware that the most subtle cough or sneeze could ruin the element of surprise. A few paces away, separated by a foot of packed snow, the Nanten soldiers spoke quietly amongst themselves.

The wall of snow was held in place by sorcery, pack tightly against the large wooden lean-to that had been constructed to support its load. Izlude didn't know the men he had been placed in charge of, stuffed tightly into one of the many snow forts buried out of sight of the Southern Sky. As uncomfortable as it was to be standing room only, he couldn't help but admire Ramza's plan.

His orders were clear. Kill those in command, but harm no man who throws down his arms. He wanted this to be as quick and bloodless as possible. It was a message they wanted to send back to Delita, not a pile of bodies. The order was passed down to each group surrounding the Nanten, and Izlude hoped the orders would be followed.

Ramza had struck a chord with the people of Bervenia, and all their worries of him being lynched had vanished instantly. There was no militia in the free city, but every single man who could bear arms made the decision to bear them in defense of their home. Most of those men were gathered with Izlude and the others, outside of the city they would protect.

The remaining Hokuten remained within the gates of Bervenia, which demonstrated how much trust had been laid in the resistance. The people knew, deep down, that they had to lay their faith in Ramza and his friends, or risk losing everything. It was those men who were at the most risk now that Elmdore had taken a compliment of men into the walls. The Northern Sky knights would be outnumbered, but Izlude was already formulating his own plan to help them.

Not far off, a massive crash broke the comparative silence of the snow covered plains outside Bervenia, as the gates of the city came crashing down. As one the men hidden beneath the drifts surged forward, their cries of defiance mirrored all around.

Izlude slammed his shoulder into the wood in front of him, as did the other men beside him, and the wall of snow toppled onto the nearest Nanten, the brilliant light of day spilling over him as he drew his blade.

* * *

As the gate fell, the remnants of the Northern Sky charged into the invading soldiers. With a locked gate to their backs and an inferno in their faces, the Nanten scattered in the wake of the men swarming from the alleyways and into their midst. They didn't yet realize, in the heat of the moment, that they vastly outnumbered the Hokuten, but it wouldn't take long for them to reorganize.

Zalbag set about causing as much chaos as possible, leading one of the two pincers as they clamped down on the Nanten. Opposite of him, Gaff did the same, dark and holy sword skills cutting through the nearest men and breaking their ranks. The Holy Knight quickly charged through the Nanten line, creating a hole for his small compliment of men to punch into.

From the rooftops above, what few sorcerers they had hurled anything they could muster down at the frantic troops below, causing further disarray. They had to try and demoralize the soldiers quickly enough that they did not realize they were at the advantage, and from that position Olan was a great asset. He froze their commanders where they stood, the potent magic he possessed removing them from the fight momentarily.

High above, Olan could see just how many of the Southern Sky had been brought into the city, and he doubled his efforts. The initial shock of the ambush was wearing off, and some of the ranks were reforming around Zalbag and Gaff's split units. The din below was so great he couldn't hear how the battle outside the wall was progressing, and could only hope the people of Bervenia had some fight in them.

* * *

Marquis Elmdore knew he had been lured into an ambush, his army divided, but he did not panic. The moment the gate was falling to trap them he began shouting orders, only to have his words cut off by the roaring fire that burst into life close enough to nearly dismount him. He reined his chocobo away as his samurai moved to his defense, and the Hokuten charged his soldiers.

This was the work of Ramza for certain. The boy had become an expert in these tactics while commanding the Blades, and Mesdoram knew them well. He would seek to keep the bulk of the Southern Sky soldiers out of the city, giving him the edge in numbers. It was obvious he hadn't expected the Marquis to bring men inside with him, as even with only one regiment Elmdore held the advantage.

"Marquis!"

Mesdoram was preparing to lead his seven to the struggling troops when a familiar voice halted him as he gave his orders. The Silver Noble turned toward the Lion of the South, a small smile gracing his lips. Ramza stood atop a roof ahead of him, one hand resting upon the sword on his hip.

The young knight had dressed for battle, his dark armor standing out against the white backdrop of the city. He did not wear the heavier plate that many knights opted for, his style devoted toward a balance of protection and mobility. The Marquis, having seen the boy in battle before, knew Ramza would rely on his own skill over cumbersome armor.

"Ramza Beoulve." Mesdoram called back. "I had hoped to find you here."

"I'm giving you one chance to take your men and leave Bervenia."

Elmdore laughed, noting that there was not a note of humor on the other man's face. Ramza was a capable warrior, that was certain, but he couldn't honestly believe he could win with the few soldiers that now harassed the Nanten soldiers on the other side of the inferno.

"We fought together on the Fuse Plains, young Beoulve. You should know me better than that."

"So be it."

Ramza stepped off the roof, falling quickly to the street below. The man landed in a crouch, quickly bounding to his feet and striding toward the Marquis and his seven samurai. Elmdore continued to smile, nodding to the men at his side. As one his most elite soldiers dismounted, and quickly strung their longbows. The boy was deranged, surely, to think he could simply walk up to the Marquis of Limberry.

As the Beoulve drew his sword, hefting the heavy blade easily in one hand, a pair of women stepped into view from either side of him. The women, bearing a remarkable resemblance to each other, took up positions at Ramza's shoulders. They were dressed out with less protection than the former Nanten was, with no visible weapons, but their presence made Mesdoram more wary.

His samurai raised their bows in tandem, aiming as Ramza and the two women continued their silent stride. There was still a good distance between the Marquis and his enemies, easily enough for his vanguard to draw and fire at least once more should they miss. Ramza Beoulve was not only deranged, it seemed, but also suicidal.

Bows were drawn taut, and arrows released. The broad head shafts were evenly spaced and fired with deadly accuracy, ensuring that neither of the three could leap to the left or right to avoid them. The smile returned to Elmdore's face as the fools kept marching to their death.

Then, suddenly, the two women vanished. One moment they had been on either side of the former Blade, and in the blink of an eye they were only a handful of paces from Elmdore's men. The arrows meant to cut them down rocketed through empty air, as Ramza raised his sword. The Dark Knight slashed horizontally in front of him, his blade emitting a wave of black energy, completely disintegrating the two shafts that threatened to skewer him.

His seven quickly dropped their bows as the pair of women reached them, quickly drawing their katana.

* * *

The battle had been quick and brutal. In scant minutes the small army of Bervenian citizens, with the help of some of Ramza's Raiders, had forced the Southern Sky forces outside of the city to surrender. Meliadoul wiped her blade on the tunic of the dead Nanten Commander at her feet, as the men around her continued to relieve the defeated soldiers of their weapons.

No sooner had she sheathed her blade than she heard her name being shouted, and turned toward her approaching brother. Izlude shoved his way through the crowd, panting, and came to a stop at her side. Planting both hands on his knees to catch his breath, he spoke quickly, his words barely intelligible.

"Elmdore took men with him into the city; Far more than Zalbag and Gaff can handle."

Meliadoul's gaze shot to the walls of the city, her expression troubled. They hadn't anticipated that, and it meant trouble. Ramza's plan had quickly been turned against him, as now the Beoulve brothers and the small number of Hokuten were trapped within the city without support. The Divine Knight glanced around quickly, taking her brother by the arm and jogging toward the gate.

"We have to get that gate open. Tell Cid what happened and I'll find us a way inside. Hurry."

Izlude nodded, sprinting off toward Orlandu as his sister ran toward the city walls. The gate could only be opened from the small gatehouse atop the wall, and as she ran Meliadoul frantically tried to think of another way into the city. As fate would have it, she nearly tripped over the solution. Stumbling past one of the Nanten soldiers, who remained on his knees, the woman glanced down at the length of rope that had tangled in her feet.

Laughing sharply, she bent and picked up the scaling rope, tugging on it to make sure the line was fastened tightly to the grappling hook. Quickly Meliadoul rolled the rope back up, as Izlude approached.

"We're going to scale it?" He asked with apprehension. "Mel, did you forget that you're not the best at climbing? As I recall you fell out of at least three trees when we were young."

"That's why I'm going first. If I fall, I'll have you to land on and cushion me."

Izlude groaned, sidling next to his sister as she began to spin the hook. It took two attempts before she got it to set, tugging hard to be sure it wouldn't break loose when they were halfway up. Content that the hook would hold, Meliadoul started up the wall.

Her brother was right when he said she wasn't much of a climber, but adrenaline and desperation seemed to make up for her lack of confidence when it came to heights. The woman moved quickly up the rope, her boots scraping against the wall and keeping her balanced. By the time she reached the top Meliadoul's arms were burning, and she collapsed over the lip of the wall in a heap.

Izlude was only seconds behind her, and together the Tingel siblings ran toward the gatehouse. They were halfway to the small structure when Izlude skittered to a halt, his gaze dropping to the ground below. Zalbag and his Hokuten were struggling, backed against the wall, each one engaged with at least two enemy soldiers at once.

A handful of Nanten were jogging up the stairs to the wall, likely seeking the same thing Meliadoul and Izlude were. The soldiers reached the top quickly, standing between the Tingel siblings and the gate controls, and it only took a moment for the men to see the defeat outside of the city. Reserve knights they may have been, but they were loyal and confident, drawing their blades and blocking the wall.

Sighing irritably at the delay, Meliadoul tugged her own sword free and strode toward the Nanten. Izlude fell into step beside her, the pair moving quickly across the top of the wall. They had little time to get the gates open before Zalbag and his soldiers were overtaken. Meliadoul feinted before sidling forward, distantly wondering when she had decided that being outnumbered felt even to her, before swords clashed together with a sharp ring.

Shoulder to shoulder, the Tingel's fought with speed and efficiency in two completely different styles. Meliadoul fell immediately back on her years of training, her strikes and feints powerful and well placed. Izlude, it seemed, had taken on some of Ramza's own brand of swordplay. His movements were erratic and seemingly random, yet no stroke of the sword was without purpose. More often than not his daring and unfamiliar style landed one of them a hit as they fought forward.

Upon the wall, the fact that they were outnumbered meant little. The Nanten couldn't come at them more than three men abreast, and had no chance to get around the two skilled knights. On the contrary, Meliadoul and Izlude somehow managed to fight their way around the handful of reservists after felling a few.

With the gate tower not far behind, Meliadoul began slowly backing toward it, fighting off the knights with every step. Stepping forward, Izlude shouldered one of the knights to the ground, finishing him with a quick slash before he moved in front of his sister.

"Get that gate open. I'll hold them here."

Hearing that, the remaining Nanten redoubled their effort, and Izlude seemed to enjoy the challenge. Meliadoul spun on her heals, sheathing her blade and sprinting to the gatehouse. A large wheel, much like the helm of a ship, was used to raise the gate, thick rope strung through a pulley to help with the load. Grasping the wheel, the Divine Knight began to crank it, hearing the gate crawl upward below her.

She could spare no attention to the sounds of combat behind her, as her brother tried to keep the four remaining soldiers on the wall at bay. The constant ringing of their swords gave her strength as she cranked the wheel, rushing to get back to his side. It took only a few moments for her to get the gate halfway open, which was good enough, when loud footfalls approached from behind.

"Mel, look out!"

Izlude's shouted warning came as the woman was already pivoting, her eyes landing on the soldier that had slipped past her brother's guard. The man lunged at her, attempting to drive his sword through her chest, and Meliadoul released the wheel. It spun, the gate rapidly descending, as she rolled along the length of the blade, its razor edge slicing through her tunic harmlessly.

Grabbing the man's wrist, she drove his arm forward, forcing him off balance and continuing the thrust he'd aimed at her. Using the man's momentum against him, Meliadoul jammed his left arm, sword and all, into the gaps of the wheel. The man cried out as he was used as a stop for the gate, the wheel crushing his arm up to the elbow. In desperation and pain the Nanten struck out, his gauntlet catching Meliadoul in the chin.

She stumbled back, her vision blurring from the impact. Feeling the back of her legs hit the wall of the rampart, the woman threw her arms out to try and maintain her balance. It was a futile attempt as she pitched backwards off of the wall, and into the city below.

* * *

The samurai had barely drawn their long, thin swords before the assassins fell upon them. Ramza had yet to witness the skill of the twins, and he found himself silently impressed. Though they carried no weapons, Celia and Lede were clearly a force to be reckoned with. They moved between the samurai with impunity, their only defense the bracers firmly wrapped around their wrists, with a speed and skill that Ramza hadn't expected.

There was a kind of grace to the women as they fought, as they appeared to dance around the men they had engaged. Every cut aimed at them was deftly avoided and followed up with swift strikes of palms and fists. The samurai found themselves instantly on the defensive, their numbers doing little to counter the raw speed and talent the twins possessed.

Ramza continued his calm advance toward Elmdore and his men, merely watching as the two women performed their intricate dance. Marquis Elmdore's samurai were renowned warriors throughout the Southern Sky and Ivalice, skilled and experienced, but Celia and Lede took them apart.

Deflecting the men's blades with only their bracers, the twins moved in tandem with each other, blinking out of existence to appear again somewhere else, and taking a massive toll in seconds. Each weakness in the samurai's Eastern armor was taken advantage of, and every blow the women dealt was debilitating.

By the time Ramza reached them, Celia was finishing the last man in a swift series of strikes, spinning lithely away from the falling samurai's desperate slash. The two women quickly looked over the downed soldiers, their stance and expression calm and almost lazy, Lede tossing a small smile at the Dark Knight as he nodded to them.

"I gave you a chance to withdraw, Marquis. You should have taken it."

"I've not backed away from a battle in my life," Elmdore replied coolly. "And I will not do so for a lone boy and a pair of whores."

The twins gave no indication that his words had offended them, leaning against the wall and looking bored. The Marquis smiled, his expression hungry, as he slowly drew Masamune, Elmdore's legendary sword. Ramza had seen the weapon in action before, and knew what it was capable of. He'd seen half a dozen men felled at the Fuse Plains, with only one swing of the long, curved blade. Grimly the Dark Knight faced the Silver Noble, taking a calming breath.

"Now this," Lede noted quietly to her sister, smirking. "Should be interesting."

* * *

"Remind me to tell your brother what a wonderful plan this was." Gaff noted, his back to the wall.

"I thought you enjoyed having the odds stacked against you." Zalbag replied, grasping one of the injured Nanten by the tunic and throwing him to the side.

"I'd call this more than stacked."

Though he hated to agree with the old man's assessment, Zalbag had little choice. Half of his Hokuten were dead or wounded, and those that remained fought desperately with nowhere to run. The Southern Sky slowly encircled them, keeping them pinned to the wall of the city and applying constant pressure. Zalbag was entirely on the defensive, doing his best to keep his men in formation and their ranks intact.

The Hokuten had moved into a tight circle, two ranks deep, with lancers directly behind the knights that held the line. It was only those lances and shields that kept the Nanten at bay, as any headlong charge they made broke upon the front rank. The enemy had instead began picking targets, darting in to take own one soldier at a time, throwing their superior numbers in concentrated bursts.

If the Bervenians failed outside the wall, all was lost. Zalbag knew this, though he refused to give in to the Dark Knight's pessimism. He had faith in the men and women he had fought with these past months, especially in Orlandu. Cid had been his enemy long enough for Zalbag to respect the man's strength and wisdom. There were only two other men he had met who could pull victory from the clutches of defeat as the Thunder God could; His father and his younger brother.

Zalbag gave the order to reinforce the ranks, preparing for another wave of Nanten bodies, when he noticed something was amiss. The Southern Sky troops had fallen back some, and many of them cast their eyes toward the top of the wall. Zalbag spun, his gaze darting to the top of the ramparts, and let out a sharp laugh at what he saw.

Meliadoul and Izlude were making short work of the small group of Nanten that had climbed the wall, and were fighting fiercely toward the controls to the gate. Reinforcements were on the way.

"That woman sure is something." Gaff said with a low chuckle, gripping his heavy sword tightly.

"Now's our chance, while the Nanten are off guard." Zalbag said, running to the front rank. "Drive them into the fire!"

Following his lead, the Hokuten surged forward, rushing the distracted Nanten lines with a ferocity that belied their numbers. They just had to hold the Southern Sky for a few moments more, and this battle would be over.

* * *

Their duel began without a word exchanged, as Elmdore lunged forward. He brought the Masamune down quickly, meeting Ramza's upward swing with a sharp ring. The Beoulve's prowess with the heavier weapon was impressive, as the boy used his youthful strength and agility to match the older man's speed.

As they moved the two men sent up small puffs of powder, their feet kicking up the fine layer of snow that coated the street, the snow illuminated by the wall of flames next to them. Neither gave ground, circling and exchanging blows as the two assassins looked on. Elmdore kept his movements constant, his gaze searching for an opening he could use.

Ramza Beoulve lacked the training and experience the Lord of Limberry possessed, but he made up for it in raw talent and his unpredictable style of swordplay. There was no obvious strike made, he sought to avoid overextending himself, and always maintained a good defense. Their combat abilities were closely matched, while completely different in stance and manner.

Marquis Elmdore was fluid and quick, each attempted cut flowing into the next without pause, as Ramza met him with solid parries. Though Elmdore had the advantage in reach, the Beoulve never allowed him the distance to use it. He kept his guard close, blocking each strike on the lower half of the Masamune, where its momentum was weakest.

As Elmdore attempted to slice into the weaker armor at the young knight's side, Ramza snapped his blade against the cut, knocking the Masamune to the side. He continued the movement, spinning with the maneuver and switching his sword to the left hand. He rotated quickly, building speed as he whipped the heavier sword around toward Elmdore's exposed left side.

The Marquis blocked the strike, the sheer force of it making him stumble away, his wrists taking the impact upon his blade. Backing a few steps, the man smirked, slashing through the open air toward his younger opponent. From the cutting edge of the thin blade came Elmdore's unique sword art.

The air between the men parted, as an arc of razor sharp wind tore toward Ramza. The Dark Knight whipped his weapon into the air and back down, dark magic bursting outward and blasting the arc before it reached him. Elmdore adjusted his grip, taking stock of the boy's stance. He couldn't read what Ramza's next move would be, and distantly wondered where the knight had acquired such a peculiar style of combat.

The two men came together again, swords clashing over and over as they struggled to gain the upper hand. After what seemed like an eternity of their stalemate, Ramza sought an end to the duel. Sidling back, the young knight dragged his blade upward, dark energy streaming from it.

Elmdore turned the edge of his sword into the wave of darkness that rose toward him, bracing against the power of it as the Masamune absorbed the attack. It left his elbows and wrists numb, but also left Ramza unprotected. Leaping forward, the Marquis swung his blade sideways, the stroke catching Ramza's sword just above the hilt.

The katana, thin and unnaturally sharp, sliced clean through the more poorly crafted knight sword. Blade separated from hilt with a hiss of steel, as Ramza stumbled back. He was left with only a pommel as his blade fell to the snow, and Elmdore came at him.

Mesdoram could see the resignation on the boy's face as he realized the power of the Masamune, as well as an expression of calm assessment. Even staring at death, Ramza Beoulve's mind was working. That was commendable, if futile. Marquis Elmdore reversed his grip, raised the katana high, throwing all his strength into the sword as he slashed downward.

Ramza's hands were a blur as they shot above his head, dropping what remained of his sword as his open palms clapped together with incredible force. He clamped them tight around both sides of Elmdore's katana, stopping the cutting edge of the Masamune so close his pluming breath drifted around both sides of the blade. The force of the halted slash brought the Beoulve to one knee and sent a surge of painful momentum into Elmdore's shoulders.

"The Shiradori. How?" Mesdoram breathed, unable to fathom how the boy could be so fast.

Ramza rotated his wrists, twisting the sword sideways within Elmdore's grip, and jammed it back. The hilt of the Masamune struck the Marquis in the throat hard enough to knock him off his feet, the sword slipping from the man's grasp as he fell to the snow packed street.

Gasping for breath, the man watched as the youngest Beoulve stood, casting the treasured sword aside without a word. For a long moment Ramza simply stared down at the fallen noble, before he turned and walked away.

* * *

Leaving the Marquis with Celia and Lede, Ramza jogged through the now dwindling flames near them. His lungs ached, his arms still throbbed from the intensity of his duel, but he could not rest yet. On the other side of the fire, he quickly took stock of the battle that was now over.

The surviving Nanten had been huddled together in the middle of the large square under the watchful eye of Bervenians and Hokuten alike, as the wounded for both sides were tended to. It took him only a moment to find Cid, who waved him over.

"The Marquis?" Orlandu asked as he approached, his face rather grim considering the victory.

"He's alive." Ramza replied, motioning to the injured man. "Have him brought to his army. How many wounded?"

"Less than expected. Most of the casualties came from the fight in here." Cid said, pausing. "Nobody could have expected him to bring so many soldiers in with him."

"I should have anticipated it." Ramza said, sighing. "Where is everyone else?"

"They're at the wall." He said, suddenly more nervous. "Meliadoul… was injured. Alma is seeing to her now."

Ramza barely heard Cid's words, as he was already running when he spoke the woman's name. All his aches and pains were momentarily forgotten as he shoved aside those in his way, cold air burning his lungs as he reached the wall.

He stuttered to a stop, his gaze landing on the still form of the woman. Alma and Izlude knelt at her side, with the rest of their group standing not far off. Silence fell as Ramza jogged over, crouching near the woman's head.

"She fell from the wall." Izlude said quietly. "One of the Nanten got past me, and I… she was knocked to the ground…"

Ramza ignored him, his eyes locked onto his sister as Alma's hand's explored the woman's side. It was a few moments before she finally met his gaze, a comforting smile touching her lips.

"I don't feel anything broken, but I think she hit her head."

"She was awake when I reached her." Izlude said quickly, to reassure himself as much as anyone else. "I spoke to her. Her mind isn't flayed. She's going to be okay."

Alma's eyes agreed with Izlude, though there was more fear there. She could look at the injuries without delusion, and Ramza could read her gaze as easily as any. There didn't seem to be any serious damage, but they wouldn't know for sure until she woke up.

"She saved us." Zalbag explained, placing his hand upon Ramza's shoulder. "If she hadn't gotten the gate open, we would have been overrun."

Ramza nodded shallowly, closing his eyes and slowing down his breathing. Unconsciously he fell instantly into the same mindset as Izlude. She would be fine. Izlude said it himself. She was awake, her mind is whole. Lowering his lips to the woman's forehead, he kissed her cool skin before sitting back. He struggled to maintain his composure, to keep calm and collected, for it wouldn't do to lose control now, in front of everyone.

"It's your fault, you know."

Ramza turned toward Elmdore's wheezing voice, and saw that the Marquis had been moved near the mass of Nanten soldiers, sitting in the cold snow. The Dark Knight felt anger burning in his chest, his gaze locked upon the Silver Noble. He was so focused upon the man that the snow that began to fall upon him went unnoticed.

"What did you just say?" Ramza replied coldly.

"Why do you think we marched on this city?" Elmdore explained, motioning with his arms. "You've become too much of a nuisance to be ignored. We couldn't simply let you keep dogging our every move. All the dead, all the injured, including that clumsy wench, it's all because of you."

Ramza was on his feet immediately, smoothly pulling Izlude's blade from its sheath as he rose. His friend jumped up as well, grabbing Ramza by the arm to stop him, seeing the darkness that burned in the Beoulve's eyes. Izlude was knocked off his feet with a one-handed shove, landing roughly as Ramza stalked toward Elmdore.

The Dark Knight heard none of the voices that shouted after him, and was unaware who else he shoved off of him as he moved. He was also unaware of the darkness that had engulfed him, physically as well as emotionally. As he strode the short distance to the Marquis, the darkness manifested.

A small haze appeared around him, black mist swirling around his arms, becoming more opaque as it writhed around the sword in his hand. He could see nothing but the Marquis inside of the dark tunnel that had claimed his vision, and didn't hesitate as he raised the sword, the dark energy forming even as he reached the man.

Small, delicate hands shoved him back, and with a shock his vision cleared. Alma stood between him and Elmdore, her gaze boring into his. Her hands remained on his chest, and Ramza realized he'd actually been pushing her as he walked.

"Stop." She said sternly, forcing his sword back down with both hands. "Remember what we're fighting for, Ramza. Remember who the _real_ enemy is."

Shaking his head to clear it, Ramza nodded soberly at his sister. He glanced back to see Izlude at his side, looking torn, and unceremoniously handed him back his weapon with an apologetic look. Taking another calming breath, he gently nudged his sister to the side.

"Take your men and go back to Zeltennia." He said calmly, staring down at the Marquis. "Tell Delita that this is a free city, and will remain so. If he wants me, he can come and find me himself."

* * *

**Author's Note: **I'm not completely happy with the chapter, even after I altered it, but I definitely feel it's better now. While it was an interesting idea, Ramza lacked the back story to justify his Ninja abilities and Teleport, which was something that ate at me after completing it the first time. So I edited that out, but maintained some of it with the twins. With their particular jobs I'd say Teleport works nicely. I'm content with it now. I also changed a couple of Elmdore's lines, as they didn't feel right to me once I had written them. I decided to actually remove the previous chapter, though I'm unsure if that gives those who reviewed the old one the opportunity to do so again.

As for Ramza being 'flawless', I honestly don't see it. I try to avoid those pitfalls, while making it clear that he is incredibly talented in single combat. This is seen time and time again in the game as he takes on powerful enemies, often by himself. Character flaws do not always present themselves in the most obvious ways, and even with his skill Ramza seldom walks out of a fight unscathed. He may not have been injured during this duel, but it's pretty obvious that he almost lost in the worst way. Other than this instance, I'm pretty sure he left the other fights in the story with some wear and tear, and got knocked around particularly hard while fighting Dycedarg. His mistakes show themselves more often in matters not directly related to his own fight. Meliadoul falling from the wall was, in a way, his fault for misjudging what Elmdore would do with his army. Not to mention the fact that the entire Northern Sky was destroyed because of an idea _he_ had to try and stop the battle at Bethla.

I'm hoping the edits are better received, because most of the thoughts people expressed, both positive and negative, matched mine pretty close before posting the first run at Sixteen. This chapter was, for some reason, the most difficult for me to get right.


	17. For the Greater Good

**Chapter Seventeen: For the Greater Good**

Agrias stared out of the window, not caring that a layer of frost kept her from actually seeing anything. The sun would be rising soon over Zeltennia castle, marking another night spent with little sleep. The Holy Knight crossed both arms over her chest, the cold air raising the flesh on her bare legs below her cotton shift. A few embers were all that remained of the fire that had warmed the large room, and Agrias considered climbing beneath the blankets again.

She glanced toward the bed where Delita slept, his breathing deep and even, and stared at him for a long moment. Often times she wondered how the man could sleep so soundly, not once waking when she slipped from his side. Thus far he'd been unaware of Ovelia's absence, and Agrias had been careful to keep him occupied.

The woman hadn't initially agreed with the Queen's departure, but was in no position to deny her. Lavian and Alicia were with her, at least, and that set the knight's mind at ease. She knew there was no danger from Ramza himself, but the journey to visit the young man was a different story. Any number of villains, not to mention the Church, would kill to get their hands on Ovelia. Her worries were further compounded by the delay. The three of them should have returned by now, and each moment that they remained outside of the city set Agrias on edge.

Delita stirred, and Agrias watched him silently. She no longer gave a second thought to her role in the kingdom that the man had built, nor did she regret what she had done to help him achieve it. It was easy to see that this was the best choice, and the best choice was never the easiest. Agrias had made a silent oath when she first came to the Southern Sky that she would do whatever it took to see Ovelia made Queen, and she had not faltered in that.

Now that her mission was complete, she knew not what to do with herself. It was obvious that Delita would take a place at Ovelia's side, once the war was over, but Agrias couldn't say where that would leave her. She did not love the man, of that she was certain, but she had grown accustomed to his company. That would be coming to an end soon; and now as always she felt torn.

It felt like a betrayal, to be sharing a bed with the man that Ovelia loved, but Agrias hadn't been able to stop. There was something dark inside Delita, that much was plain, but also another aspect to him that few had seen. His ambition was not his own, despite his constant work to make it seem so. The battles and his constant quest for power were not for his own benefit. Agrias couldn't see what it was that drove him forward, but it was something that brought him pain.

Sighing, the Holy Knight crept back to the bed, turning up the covers and climbing back in. Whatever it was that gave Delita his ambition was what kept her in his bed, for she realized she truly had none of her own. Her life was spent in service, divided between both the Northern and Southern Sky, but she had no idea what she would do once her sword and body were no longer required.

Lying with her back to the future king, curled up to keep warm, Agrias waited for dawn to come.

* * *

Upon opening her eyes, Meliadoul felt a sense of confusion. Her head swam for a moment as her gaze refocused, and she recognized the texture of the bed she rested in. Gently she dragged her fingertips across the spread, memory bringing her back to the other nights she had spent there. Her head throbbed, and the woman groaned at the dull pain in the back of her skull.

"You're awake!" Alma whispered, her face appearing in the woman's vision as she tucked a strand of blonde hair off her face.

"How bad?" Meliadoul asked, her voice cast just as low.

"Other than a nasty blow to the head, you're fine. You were lucky."

"I don't feel lucky."

Alma laughed lightly, quickly covering her mouth and glancing to the side. Meliadoul followed her gaze to see Ramza sitting not far off, slumped down in a chair next to her bed, his eyes closed.

"You have impeccable timing. First real sleep he's gotten in two days, and you decide to wake up."

"Two days?" Meliadoul asked in surprise, gently touching the tender area of her skull. "I was out for two days?"

"In and out, really. You'd wake up from time to time, but you were never all there. You just drank some water and fell asleep again. Ramza wouldn't leave the room."

The woman kept her gaze locked onto the sleeping knight, the smile that touched her lips impossible to keep down. He must have been exhausted, for he didn't stir the entire time they had been talking. After a long moment Meliadoul glanced back at Alma in time to see the girl smirking mischievously.

"Are you hungry? Do you think you can walk?"

"Yes," Meliadoul replied, frowning. "But shouldn't we wake him?"

"No, let him sleep. It'll be better to see his reaction when he finds you're not here."

The Divine Knight rolled her eyes and shook her head, but the movement shot a sharp tendril of pain down her neck, and she winced. Using Alma to help her up, Meliadoul felt a little embarrassed, but the smaller woman seemed completely at ease. Once she was on her feet, the knight was much more stable, and was able to dress with little trouble.

The stairs were more of a chore, but she navigated them well enough, if slowly. Before even reaching the dining room the scent of stew drifted over, and suddenly Meliadoul realized she was ravenous. Two days without food had her stomach twisting with hunger, and for a moment all of her aches were forgotten. Walking into the room, Alma's hand gently holding her arm, she interrupted conversation.

Izlude was out of his chair in an instant, bumping Olan hard enough to knock the bowl he held from his grasp, and he reached them in two strides. The astrologist grumbled, absently wiping soup from his tunic, as Gaff and Valmafra burst out laughing. Cid, Beowulf, and Reis appeared to be absent, as well as the twin assassins.

"Mel! You're awake!" Izlude pulled his sister into a firm embrace, unintentionally squeezing the bruises that covered her back and sides.

"Be careful you idiot." Alma said, slapping his arm. "She's still on the mend."

"Oh, no, I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" He asked quickly, looking abashed.

"I'm fine, really." Meliadoul replied, taking a deep breath. "Though you'd think with all the concoctions Chemists can make, they'd have something you could take for a headache."

Izlude and Alma led her to the table, as Valmafra placed a cushion in the straight backed chair, and Meliadoul sat. A few seconds later, as she devoured her first meal in days, she completely forgot she'd ever been in pain. The food did wonders for her body, and already she felt better than she had minutes before.

"So," She began as Alma poured her another bowl. "What did I miss?"

"The Nanten returned to Zeltennia, and Cid says he doesn't think they will return." Olan explained, still trying to clean his shirt.

"I didn't realize the Southern Sky would give up so easily." She noted, leaning on the table.

"It's a matter of priorities. Bervenia isn't strategically worth anything. They only reason Delita sent men here at all is because of us. It seems we're quite bothersome to both sides of their little conflict."

Before the discussion could go further, the sound of footsteps rapidly descending the stairs sounded Ramza's approach. Alma giggled, and a moment later her brother stumbled into the room. His hair was disheveled and there were bags under his eyes, but he lit up when he saw Meliadoul sitting at the table.

"Have a nice nap?" Alma asked innocently.

Ramza replied by glaring, pointing one finger at her with mock menace before he slipped over to the table. Meliadoul found herself surprised as her brother climbed out of his seat next to her to offer it to his friend, and in turn sat next to Ramza. The Dark Knight collapsed next to her, and quickly looked her over wordlessly.

"Please," Alma began, rolling her eyes. "She's fine. Do you want her to strip down so you, in your great wisdom when it comes to healing, can check her bruises?"

Everyone other than Ramza and Meliadoul, who blushed lightly, burst out laughing. Even Izlude, who she thought would never laugh at such a thing, sputtered a little. Slowly a smile touched the woman's lips, as Ramza shook his head, chuckling. They spent the rest of the afternoon laughing and talking, and that evening when Meliadoul climbed back into Ramza's bed to rest, she wasn't alone.

* * *

The water was bitter cold, but still refreshing. Ovelia knelt in the sand running the Finath River, grateful that her vanguard had opted to stop for a spell. They'd ridden hard since leaving Bervenia behind, and the Queen wasn't used to such haste. Too much time had been spent in the free city, however, and Agrias wouldn't be pleased at the delay. The Holy Knight worried over Ovelia's safety constantly, and it was likely the three of them would be receiving an earful when they returned to Zeltennia.

Splashing the chilled water on her face and appreciating the lack of snow east of Bervenia, Ovelia sat back. She hoped Delita hadn't discovered her visit to Ramza and the others, as he seemed to hold a special distaste for his former friend, calling him a traitor whenever Ovelia brought his name up. The Queen knew differently, but she couldn't say how.

She knew Ramza, by his actions if not personally, and she trusted him. Whatever reasons the knight had for leaving the Southern Sky behind him, she was certain they were just. There was no danger in visiting the heretic and rogue, and in fact she had felt safer in his cozy hideout than she had in some time. With a rueful smile, Ovelia realized hadn't felt so at ease since the day he rescued her from the Hokuten.

"It was nice to see them again, wasn't it?" The Queen asked, staring across the river.

After several moments of silence, Ovelia frowned, and twisted to look back where the two knights stood watch. The women had turned their backs to her, backing toward the river and slowly drawing their swords. Ovelia was on her feet in an instant, scanning the small hill above them.

A man she didn't recognize reached the crest of the hill, along with several knights in similar garb. The blonde man surveyed the Queen and her vanguard for but a moment, before laughing down at them. Waving his comrades off, the man strode down the hill toward them, pulling his own blade free.

"It seems I have the devil's luck today." He said, smiling. "It must be fate that of all the people to stumble across I run into the Queen of Ivalice."

"Who are you?" Ovelia asked, her gaze locking onto his nervously.

"Wiegraf Folles, Your Majesty, former Death Knight and Templar for the Glabados Church."

His admission of fealty to the church was all the provocation Lavian and Alicia needed. The women charged up the hill without hesitation, willing to throw down their lives in defense of Ovelia. The Queen cried out, as Wiegraf met them halfway. He sidestepped as Lavian lunged for him, quickly deflecting her thrust to the side before planting a boot into the woman's midsection.

As her partner was knocked down the slope, Alicia leapt at the Templar. Folles met her blade with his, shoving the woman backward a few paces, and driving her down the hill with a series of swift strokes. As they neared the breathless Lavian, he caught the St. Konoe's wrist with one hand, twisting her sword to the side and slamming the pommel of his weapon against her skull.

Alicia fell in a heap, as Lavian clambered back up, only to be met with another solid kick, this time to her face. The knight was pitched back, blood spurting from her nose as she sprawled out near the river. Wiegraf raised his sword, his smile now absent, and moved in for the killing blow.

"No!" Ovelia cried, diving onto the fallen woman to shield her. "Do with me as you wish, but do not kill them!"

Wiegraf stared at her impassively for a moment before he snapped his sword up to rest on his shoulder. The Templar smiled warmly, extending one hand to Ovelia.

"It's not proper for you to behave so My Lady, get up. Perhaps, if you are cooperative, I may be able to spare their lives."

Ovelia took the man's hand, rising slowly. Blood had stained the shoulder of her dress, but she paid no mind to it. She would do what was necessary to spare the lives of the two knights, regardless of the personal cost. Lavian and Alicia were perhaps her only true friends in the entire Southern Sky, and no sacrifice was too great.

"Much better." Wiegraf said, still smiling. "You lived in different monasteries most of your life, did you not?"

"Yes." Ovelia replied, nodding shallowly.

"Then perhaps you have seen what I seek…"

* * *

Ramza knocked lightly on his brother's door, waiting until Zalbag called him in, and slipped inside quickly. The elder Beoulve raised an eyebrow at Ramza, pausing in the middle of the parchment he was reading to motion that he should sit. Ramza strode quickly over, taking a seat across from the man's desk and leaning close.

"I'm leaving. Tonight."

"I expected you might." Zalbag replied, sighing.

"It's too dangerous for me to remain here. Both the Southern Sky and the Church want my head, and every moment I linger in Bervenia I risk all of you."

"Brother," Zalbag began calmly. "Do you think we don't know this? We are here because we want to be, and each of us is willing to take the risks."

"Perhaps, but I am not. My presence hinders our cause more than anything else, and so long as I stay here the people of this city, and all of you, are targets. Delita knows he can use you against me."

"I can't stop you from doing what you feel is right, even if I do not agree. As I said, I expected you to come to this decision."

"Thank you, Zalbag."

"You're going alone? I can think of a couple of women who won't be happy to hear that."

"I cannot tell Alma and Mel about this. They'll insist that they come with me, and put themselves in danger."

"That's true, and I doubt you'd be able to keep either of them from doing just that."

"You'll take care of things for me?"

"Of course. I shall remain here to gather who I can to our cause, and I'll meet with everyone in the morning to decide our plans in your absence."

Ramza nodded solemnly, rising and making his way to the door. The Dark Knight went straight to his room, scooping up the gear he'd already packed, and quickly left. He took care to creep past the dining room, where Olan and Valmafra sat talking, and out into the night.

The air was brisk and still, the city streets still populated despite the late hour. Several of the Bervenians stopped to speak with him as he passed, for Ramza was known by almost every man and woman within the walls. Stopping at one of the few shops still open, he bought what provisions he expected he would need, before making his way to the stables.

Slipping into the large structure, he quickly jogged to where Atro was tied, only to round the corner and calm to a halt. His mount had already been saddled, and stood anxiously next to Izlude as the knight fed him some greens. Alma and Meliadoul stood not far off, next to their own chocobos, glaring at him.

"What are you doing?" Ramza asked, glancing between the three of them.

"Come on," Alma replied, crossing her arms. "Did you honestly think you had a chance of sneaking away _without_ us?"

"Zalbag told you, didn't he?" Ramza asked, sighing.

"Naturally, and honestly we're a little offended you even tried."

Izlude chuckled, dusting his hands off and picking up his pack. A small smile touched Meliadoul's lips as she pulled her mount from its pen, tying her sword to the saddle and walking it toward Ramza.

"It's too dangerous." Ramza said weakly, knowing already he wouldn't win this argument.

"Look," Meliadoul said as she reached him. "You can stay, and believe me I can _make_ you, or we're coming with you. The choice is yours."

* * *

**Author's Note: **It feels good to be past that block. The next few chapters will see our heroes separated to an extent, so expect some character as well as plot building, since I'll be focusing more on the pairs/groups of Ramza's friends that are spread through Ivalice. There will also be some more Agrias as well, so her fans can rejoice a bit.

About Agrias. That was something I wanted to work on. It wasn't clear why she decided to help Delita with his plot, and I wanted to touch on it a bit. Her loyalty lies completely with Ovelia, and the sacrifices she made were part of the reason the chapter is named what it is. At the same time she's torn and confused, and sought solace in Delita physically. So when it comes down to it, who exactly is she in it for now? Delita or Ovelia?

To be honest, aside from the Lucavi, I don't believe anyone in FFT was truly evil. Some of them did terrible things, but in many cases it was for what they believed was the greater good. Even Wiegraf, who is portrayed as usually a pretty bad dude, had noble intentions up until he became Velius. He sought reparations for past injustice, and then wanted revenge/justice for his murdered sister. He may have had darkness in him, but he was never evil. The closest to 'evil' was probably Dycedarg, and even his actions were motivated by greed and selfishness more than a desire to cause real suffering.

Hope you enjoy the chapter.


	18. Separate Ways

**Chapter Eighteen: Separate Ways**

**

* * *

**

"Again." Meliadoul said, peeling the leather tunic off over her head.

Ramza smirked, rolling his shoulders slowly and pacing. The Dark Knight rotated his wrist, swinging the long sword in a slow arc. Though it wasn't considerably warm, even this far south of the city they had left behind, both of them had shed most of their clothing. They'd been at it for the better part of an hour, and both Ramza and Meliadoul had worked up a sweat.

The Beoulve tried to concentrate on the woman's face, ignoring the fact that her thin leather undershirt had left her stomach bare. As their dueling had progressed, gradually more layers had been stripped away for mobility and to combat the heat they produced, and he couldn't say he minded. Ramza himself wore only leather sleeves and trousers, the sleeves fastened behind his shoulders and leaving the rest of his torso exposed to the elements.

Despite the lack of armor, they both wielded bare blades. Ramza couldn't say when their trust in each other's skill and restraint had developed to the level it was at, but he wasn't concerned about an accident. Though they weren't holding anything back, the only marks on their bodies were a couple of red marks where the flat of a blade had struck.

Standing a short distance across the small clearing, Meliadoul raised her sword into a high guard. Ramza took a calming breath, his stance as nonchalant as they came. The Divine Knight stalked slowly toward him, both hands tightly holding her blade. The difference in their stance and movement was great. Meliadoul was focused and precise, years of training dictating her every move, while the Dark Knight acted purely on instinct, remaining casual.

As she came at him, Ramza sidled to the left. His sword snapped up quickly, deflecting the overhead strike to the side. He continued circling her, the two knights moving in tandem through the trampled grass. Each spent more time looking for an opening than actually swinging their blades, but that didn't make the duels any less strenuous.

Slipping forward quickly, Ramza whipped his blade toward the woman, letting Meliadoul's parry guide his sword in a fast arc. He spun, using the pressure of her blade on his to pivot, freeing his weapon and switching it to his off hand. Meliadoul turned the tip of her sword down, blocking the flat of his blade before it struck her arm, and shoved him back with one hand.

The Dark Knight smiled, pacing once more. He waited patiently, eyes constantly locked onto the woman. He knew that she wouldn't wait forever for him to strike, while he had no problem biding his time. Sure enough, after a few moments, Mel's patience ran out.

She came at him quickly, the blades connecting with a sharp, whining sound. Ramza dragged the edge of his weapon along hers, stepping into the woman's guard. His free hand shot up, grasping her wrist below the hilt, and driving into her. For all her experience and skill, Meliadoul was lacking when it came to such close engagements. Most of her training had been with the skills of the Templar, keeping the enemy further than the tip of one's blade.

The woman stumbled as Ramza forced her sword above her head, pulling her wrist behind her shoulder to pin her hand to her back. She reacted quickly, snaring his own sword hand beneath her arm, and pulling Ramza with her. They stumbled through the cool grass, tugging and muscling for control of their weapon. In actual combat, one of them would have used their head as a blunt instrument, smashing it into the nose of the other.

As Meliadoul's back struck a tree, the impact knocking her sword from her grasp and scraping Ramza's hand against the bark, he almost did so by accident. The Beoulve turned his head at the last minute, his forehead rapping lightly against the tree as opposed to her face. Meliadoul laughed loudly, still keeping his sword trapped beneath her arm, and wrapped one arm around his back quickly.

Chest to chest against the tree, Ramza started laughing as well, his free hand snaking up to rub his head. At the same moment the woman wrenched on his wrist, pressing it up against the rough bark and raising both of her eyebrows.

"Yield?"

Ramza smirked, releasing his hold on his weapon. Meliadoul freed his wrist, slowly slipping her arms around his neck. Ramza realized then that they hadn't actually been alone since the night she had woken in Bervenia. Since the two of them had gone to ground, Alma and Izlude had always been within shouting distance. This was actually the first time in days the four of them hadn't been together, as Izlude and his sister had gone off in search of food.

Of all the things they could do in the absence of their siblings, Meliadoul and Ramza had turned to fighting. Standing in her arms, feeling the woman's chest rise and fall against his as she caught her breath, Ramza was reminded of a similar struggle for dominance, months before. That confrontation in the garrison had been the start of whatever it was they had now, and he hadn't actually looked back on the moment since.

They were creatures of conflict, constantly struggling for control and power over their own fate. Ramza was still unsure what drew them together like some unknown, magical force, but it was something he couldn't resist. Ever since that night, or perhaps even before then, he found himself inexplicably drawn toward the Divine Knight, physically and emotionally. For all their differences and personal flaws, they had found something more profound with each other. Ramza felt as though he was only half of what he had been a year prior, with this woman filling the empty space.

He was less surprised now when Meliadoul pressed her lips roughly against his, her slender form molding itself against his, than when she had done so back at Bethla. The entire world had changed since then, especially for the two knights. Wrapping both arms around the woman's waist, he pulled her tighter against him, keeping her pinned against the tree.

It was only a short distance from there to the soft, cool grass beneath their feet.

* * *

The remainder of Ramza's company had gathered in the dining room, the chatter of birds returning from their winter vacation filtering in through the open window, as Zalbag took a seat at the table. Most of his Hokuten had been sent out to the nearby villages and forts in an attempt to find others suitable to their cause, and it was time for them to do the same.

"So what have you all decided?" Zalbag asked, leaning back.

Silence hung in the air for a moment. None of them wished to separate, though they had agreed that it was the best choice for the time being. Staying clustered in Bervenia wasn't getting them any closer to recovering the holy stones, and actually slowed down their progress. They also had decided that Ramza had been wise in his decision to leave, for their very presence put the entire free city at risk.

"We've yet to hear anything from Mustadio." Olan said finally, shrugging. "Val and I were thinking we would go to Goug, in case he's unable to leave the city."

"That sounds fun." Celia added, glancing over at her twin. "I think we'll join you."

"When did you two take to rescue missions?" Val asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Why, pet, do you not wish for our company?" Lede asked, smirking. "We've never been to the clockwork city. Besides, it's not as though we have other engagements."

"That's fine with me." Olan replied, shooting Valmafra a look.

"Very well." Zalbag began, glancing at the others. "Any other ideas?"

"I shall return to the Eastern Sky." Gaff said simply. "There's something I left behind there, and I'd say it's time I collected it."

"Though I know I'll likely regret this, would you mind if I came along?" Orlandu asked.

"If you're worried I'm planning an escape, you old goat, you need not." Gaff replied, smiling smugly. "But you're welcome to break your hip over a long ride if you wish."

"We will remain here then, to help Zalbag organize our allies." Beowulf decided with a shrug, gently squeezing his lover's hand. "There's little else for us."

Zalbag nodded, emptying the sack he had carried in onto the table. The stones made a heavy, dull sound as they fell onto the wood, and he stared at them for a long moment.

"Ramza and I agreed it was safer to divide up the stones we have. He has taken Virgo and the scriptures, and Meliadoul has Sagittarius, leaving the rest in our hands. Olan, do you have Libra with you?"

"Yes." The man glanced over at Cid as he spoke, smiling slightly.

"Then take Aquarius as well. Capricorn will go with Gaff and Lord Orlandu, and Beowulf, Reis, and I will look after Taurus and Scorpio. Is that acceptable?"

The rest of them nodded their assent, and Zalbag divvied out the holy stones. It seemed surreal to him, to be taking charge of a small group composed mostly of those he had once considered enemies. It was a reminder of the change that came with the war, and in particular the power Ramza had to bring about such change. Nobody but his little brother could have brought together knights from the Northern, Southern, and Eastern Sky.

"Good luck everyone."

* * *

"What do you mean she's _gone_?" Agrias asked, bracing against the stone wall with one hand.

"It was the Templars." Alicia said, the two Lionsguard kneeling as low as they could at her feet. "They attacked us as we traveled. A Holy Knight named Wiegraf took her, and we… we couldn't stop him."

The women weren't seriously injured, though it was obvious that they had been attacked. Lavian was still favoring her right side, her face bruised, and Alicia's blonde hair still had dried blood in it. Agrias knew they had fought as best they were able, and couldn't blame the two knights for their failure. She should have gone with them, she should have _protected_ Ovelia.

"What were the Templars doing so far north?" Agrias asked nobody in particular, squeezing her eyes shut. "Why would they be so deep in our territory, unless..."

It came to her then. There was no reason for a Holy Knight to be traveling near Bervenia, when the front was nowhere near the free city. It was because Bervenia was so deep in the Southern Sky's hold that Agrias had allowed the Queen to travel there in the first place. The risk was minimal. She could think of only one way that the Templars would have found the Queen.

"Ramza is working with the Church." She said, certain even as the words left her lips.

Lavian and Alicia glanced at each other, confusion etched upon their features. The woman turned their gaze up to her, slowly rising to their feet.

"That's the only explanation." Agrias continued, pacing. "He must have told the Templars where the Queen was heading, and ordered her captured."

"Why would he do that?" Alicia asked, looking shocked.

"I cannot guess his motives. Ramza Beoulve, if you haven't noticed, isn't much for loyalty. No doubt he was given immunity from persecution in exchange for his aid in the war."

"But Ramza has been raiding Templar strongholds as often as he has ours." Lavian supplied, frowning.

"Has he? Do we know he's been doing so, or are we taking his word? The Church would naturally declare the same, to keep him as a secret ally in the hopes that such an opportunity would present itself."

The two knights still looked uncertain, but Agrias had no doubts. Ramza had finally shown his true character, and once again betrayed those close to him. She'd initially been hesitant to believe Delita's words against the Beoulve, but now she could see it clearly. Ramza had no loyalty except to himself, and he cared nothing for those he had called his friends.

"Go get cleaned up." Agrias ordered. "And get something to eat. We depart tonight for Bervenia. Ramza Beoulve will answer for this betrayal, one way or another."

* * *

"If I eat one more berry, I may be sick." Izlude said, his expression twisting as he looked over their dinner.

"Nobody said you had to eat!" Alma replied, yanking the food away from him. "Perhaps, if you could actually hit something with that crossbow of yours, we'd have something to cook."

"The sights were off!" Izlude shot back, glaring at her.

Meliadoul simply laughed, popping another of the small fruit in her mouth and leaning back against Ramza's chest. The Beoulve sat behind the woman, arms wrapped protectively around her waist, smiling. It still annoyed Izlude, a little, to see the two of them so close, but there was little he could do to stop it. Saying something in front of Mel would be practically a death wish, and any comment made to Ramza would only have his relationship with Alma brought up.

The four of them had spent several days traveling south with no real destination. Ramza had told them right away that he really had no plan after leaving the city, and only wanted to give the people of Bervenia a chance for peace. That decision seemed to sit well with all of them, as in turn it also gave them time to forget they were at war. As the days went by, however, Izlude noticed his friend was becoming more and more distracted. It wasn't hard to guess that Ramza's mind was on their struggle against the Lucavi.

"I've been thinking." The Beoulve said casually, resting his chin on Mel's shoulder.

"Oh, this should be good." Alma said, smiling sweetly.

"There's still much we don't know about the Lucavi." He continued. "We know they can be killed, and that they are trying to drag the war on as long as possible, but that's about it. I was thinking we should visit Simon."

"The Priest?" Izlude asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Yes. He managed to translate most of the scriptures, but there are still some things we don't know. Perhaps he can find something useful dealing with the Lucavi themselves, or something else to help us end this war."

"That seems like as good an idea as any." Alma agreed, crossing her legs in the grass.

"We'll make for Orbonne in the morning then." Izlude said, falling to his back. "But not early. I'm sleeping in."

Ramza laughed and set about preparing his own sleeping arrangements. He and Meliadoul bed down on the other side of their small fire, curling up together beneath the trees. Izlude lie on his back, hands tucked beneath his head, for a long time. His thoughts had been drifting down a dark path recently, and he'd yet to speak of his worries to his sister.

"You look serious." Alma noted, propping her head up and lying on her side next to him.

"I'm just thinking."

"It scares me when you or Ramza do that. It doesn't end well."

Izlude smiled slightly, turning his head toward the girl. Golden hair fell across her face, bathed in what little moonlight filtered through the canopy high above them and by the flames not far off. Izlude slipped one hand up, tucking the stray strands off of her face.

"What's on your mind?" She asked, pressing her cheek gently against his palm.

"My father." Izlude said, sighing. "With everything we've seen I'm afraid of what has become of him."

"Do you think the Church is using him?"

"Hardly." Izlude replied with a sharp laugh, before lowering his voice. "Our father was never one to be under anyone's thumb. Mel holds him in higher regard, but she was always his favorite. I was… the other child. He loved me, but never like he did Mel."

"I understand." Alma said quietly, her gaze distant. "It was like that for us as well. Our father loved us, he treated us well, but we didn't quite fit in. That's why we always stayed together, kept things close. It was us against Ivalice."

"I was never as skilled as Mel either." Izlude added. "She was what I'd always aspired to be, though I came up short."

Alma listened patiently, staring over at him. For a long moment Izlude said nothing else, instead he simply stared up at the sky. Sliding a little closer, Alma let her hand drift over, fingertips dancing over the thin cotton covering Izlude's chest.

"Knowing my father, it's more likely he's deeply involved in all of this. He'll be right in the middle of it, planning and orchestrating. He always needed to be in the thick of things. What worries me is that… if the Lucavi are behind the Church, then perhaps…"

"You think he's one of them?" Alma asked, her expression sympathetic.

"I'm almost certain of it. Father was a cold, ruthless man sometimes, and that seems like just what the demons are after. I can't see it any other way, in my head."

"What will you do if he has been seduced by the Lucavi?"

"What _can_ I do? He's my father, and he's all the family Mel and I have."

The knight rubbed his eyes wearily, his thoughts jumbled. He'd wondered the same thing for weeks, and still had no idea what he was meant to do about it. Did he have the strength of character to face his father if he had truly given in to the demons? Could he bring himself to help kill the man who raised him? He doubted himself more and more each day. He couldn't even bring himself to talk about it with Mel; How could he possibly fight against the only other family he had?

"That's not true." Alma whispered, sliding closer to him. "You have us."

Izlude glanced over as the girl leaned in, kissing him softly on the cheek, and draping one arm over his chest. Izlude slowly let his mind clear, his attention focused on the feel of Alma's cheek on his shoulder. Eventually the girl's breathing changed, indicating that she had fallen asleep.

Leaning down, the young knight kissed her golden hair, all thoughts of his father momentarily dispelled.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Sorry again for the long delay. Real life loves to get in the way, and even though I tell myself I won't let it interfere with my writing, it always does. Not a long chapter, but more build up for what's to come. Couple small foreshadowing details, or Chekov Guns if you will, for later chapters.

The next few chapters are going to be revolving around a single group of people, as the group is splitting up on different agendas. Six or so chapters remain in Part 2. Thanks for reading.

**SirKaid** I have to say you're right. Upper Management when it comes to Ivalice really does seem to be truly evil. I usually just forget all about some of what Dyce, Larg, and Goltana have done. Not to mention Ruvelia actually wanted to have her own daughter (of sorts) murdered in a bid for power.

**Gambit Knight** Though I was never a big fan of Beowulf, I did like what was added for him in the PSP version. I always liked Zalbag though, and thought he was done little justice in the game. Poor, trusting bastard. You'll be seeing plenty of Zalbag in the rest of the story, though Beowulf is more of a placeholder for me. He is, so far in my plans, just kind of around for the cameo purpose.


	19. Running Like Clockwork

**Chapter Nineteen: Running Like Clockwork**

**

* * *

**

The clockwork city of Goug had always intrigued Olan. There was quite honestly no place like it in all of Ivalice, and every time he visited the city he discovered something new. Many of the inhabitants were machinists, studying devices and objects from the days of St. Ajora, and perhaps even before.

As he walked through the common district of the city, in the company of three women, he took time to admire the people traversingthe streets. Many of them were dressed in a peculiar way, though in Goug it was a sign of their profession. Mechanics and miners made up a majority of the people they passed, and most of them seemed as interested in Olan and the girls as he was in them. It didn't take the young man long to realize that their attire, especially as much skin as the assassins were showing, made them quite noticeable.

"We should find Mustadio fast." Olan said, casting his voice low as he glanced at Val.

After declaring war upon the Southern Sky, the Church had moved immediately on the clockwork city, securing it before the Nanten had a chance to challenge their control. Goug held many secrets, it was said, and one in particular was of interest to the Templars. From what Olan had learned, the very first holy stone had been pulled from deep beneath the city, with perhaps more buried in the depths.

The Church sought to capitalize on that, forcing the machinists to search for any more auracite that might be buried along with the ancient technology that the people of Goug were known for repairing. Travelling through the city would be tricky, especially if the Templars had discovered who Mustadio was. They would already be watchful and cautious, and Olan was concerned their appearance alone would draw the attention of the soldiers that had been stationed in the city.

"You don't think he was captured, do you?" Valmafra asked.

"He may have, but I hope not. That would… complicate things."

"Speaking of complications," Lede began, her twin immediately finishing her sentence. "Here it comes now."

Olan followed their gaze, locking eyes with a handful of knights down the street. The Templars were observing them with scrutiny as they approached, an air of hostility present even before the men arrived. Several of the soldiers had their hands already on their weapons, and Olan struggled to look casual as the Templars stalked toward them.

"Shall we dispose of them?" Celia asked casually, cocking her head to one side.

"We promise it will be quick." Lede added.

"No, no," Olan replied in a rough whisper. "The last thing we want is to draw attention to ourselves. We don't need the entire city coming down on us."

The knights slowly circled them, their gaze direct and suspicious. Olan took a calming breath, trying to find a way to avoid the confrontation that seemed almost certain. He smiled slightly at the Templars, doing his best to seem unconcerned.

"Good afternoon." The young man said amiably, his tone light despite the obvious tension.

"State your business." One of the men replied, eyes narrowed.

"Our business?" Olan asked, realizing that perhaps they should have come up with a believable lie for such a situation. "We're, well, simply passing through?"

"Passing through?" The knight asked, eyeing his compatriots. "Goug is hardly 'on the way' to anywhere."

The Templar had him there. Goug was perhaps the most removed city in Ivalice, and it stood to reason that any who visited the city came with a purpose. Olan began to panic, glancing at Valmafra in the hopes she had a better explanation than he. The woman's gaze was averted, her eyes locked onto something Olan couldn't see, behind him and to the right.

"Can we just kill them and be done with it?" One of the twins asked, her tone bored.

Instantly the Shrine Knights drew their blades, and Olan was thrown into chaos. He wasn't certain what had happened, but the moment the soldiers of the Church had pulled their swords free, several peals of thunder cracked around them. The sky was clear and bright, cast into shades of orange and yellow with the rising sun, and Olan could not place how the deafening sounds could seem so close.

Three of the men dropped to the street, clutching their bodies and crying out in pain. Olan stumbled back as another pair of loud cracks emanated through the street, causing those nearby to panic and scatter, and the remaining two knights fell before they could even raise their swords.

Ears ringing, Olan spun, his gaze falling onto the young machinist as he slipped from concealment near them. Along the roof above him several other men crouched, their attention on the fallen Templars. Olan was perplexed as Mustadio reached them, the strange device in his hand releasing a small wisp of smoke from the tube on the end.

"Come on," He said quickly, nodding to an alleyway near them. "We need to get out of here quickly. Reinforcements will be here any moment."

* * *

"I learned you'd arrived almost as soon as you stepped into the city." Mustadio said with a smile, leaning against the wall. "Luckily we got to you before the Templars did. With the way you're… dressed… I figured it was only a matter of time before they approached you."

As he spoke, the young machinist's eyes wandered to Celia and Lede, who seemed unconcerned by the blush that rose in his cheeks. Mustadio knew he looked a little the worse for wear. His clothes were torn in several places, and a large smudge of grease was visible on his cheek. There'd been no time to clean up before coming to the former Nantens assistance, though he rather wished he had. He hadn't expected Olan to come strolling into town with a veritable harem.

The five of them had gathered in what passed as his father's study, safe from the roaming patrols of Shrine Knights that spent their days causing the citizens of Goug grief. The clockwork city had been under the strain of their rule since the Church had gone on the offensive, though for the most part Mustadio had avoided any open confrontation.

"We appreciate it." Olan said, shaking his head. "If you hadn't arrived when you did, it may have been a lot worse."

"Think nothing of it. You offered me more hospitality than I expected when I came to Bethla, I would do no less for you."

"I believe introductions are in order." Olan said, turning to Val. "Mustadio, this is Valmafra, a former aide to the High Priest."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." The woman said coolly, turning and indicating the twins standing against the wall. "Celia and Lede, assassins from Riovanes, neither of which is to be trusted."

"Your words cut us deep, pet." Lede said, pouting.

"He's kind of cute." Her twin added, resting her head on the other woman's shoulder as she eyed Mustadio shamelessly. "In his own odd way."

Olan laughed at the nervous expression that touched the machinist's features, and Valmafra raised her eyebrows at him. Mustadio didn't know what to make of the two women. They were intimidating and beautiful, compounded by the fact that their clothes left their navel bare and shoulders exposed. In most of Ivalice such a lack of modesty was considered scandalous.

"We hadn't heard from you in weeks." Val said after a moment. "So we were concerned that the Church may have gotten to you."

"Oh," Mustadio began, looking sheepish. "It's been hard to get a message out, with the way the Templars have been running the city. We try to stay out of their way."

"We?" Olan inquired.

"The other machinists. The Church is, as you've likely guessed, still searching for the holy stones. They have hundreds of men excavating parts of Goug, though I doubt they'll find anything."

"Why's that?"

"Well, you see, the Taurus stone wasn't _always _in Goug, of that I am certain. From what I can tell it was hidden here long ago, but not as long as the artifacts we have been uncovering."

"Such as that device you were carrying early?" Val asked, eyeing the weapon tucked into his trousers.

"This?" Mustadio asked, pulling it free. "This is called a pistol. It shoots an iron ball at a very high velocity, punching clean through plate armor in most cases."

"Strange." Olan said, leaning close to inspect the gun.

"Is this also something you dug up?" Valmafra pointed at the center of the room, reminding Mustadio of the large metal sphere there.

"Indeed. We discovered it a couple days ago, but I haven't had much time to decipher just what it is."

Valmafra walked over to the sphere, crouching to get a better look at it. The moment she neared the steel ball it rocked slightly to the side, humming quietly and causing her to fall back onto her rear in surprise.

"What the hell did I do?" She asked, confused.

"I think it's reacting to the stone." Olan surmised, kneeling next to her.

"That's it!" Mustadio exclaimed, rushing to them. "_That's_ what the hole on the top is for! Quick, give me the stone."

Val looked a little nervous, but handed Aquarius over to him without argument. The machinist looked over the stone for a moment before he inserted it into the slot, the auracite sliding in with an audible click, and he quickly backed away. Small rivers of energy began to dance across the sphere, as it seemed to snap free from its form.

The ball of steel rapidly unfolded, changing to become a large steel creature that vaguely resembled a man. Gears and joints groaned with strain as the machine rose to its feet, before it finally froze in place with a loud creak. It stood several heads taller than all of them, and looked incredibly imposing.

"Amazing!" Mustadio almost leapt into the air, laughing. "A bipedal mechanical automaton!"

"A what?" Valmafra asked, perplexed.

"Basically," Olan translated. "It's a steel golem, but it doesn't seem to be working."

A pair crimson eyes appeared, their light strange and focused, and the mechanical creation turned to face Mustadio. Instantly the twins moved further away, and onto the defensive. Olan and Val stepped back a little as well, though Mustadio seemed unconcerned to be the subject of the golem's attention.

"Can we kill it?" Celia asked, her voice wary, as her sister finished her question. "With fire?

"**System set up completed. Everything is normal. Master, what is your order****?"**

"It can speak?" Valmafra cried, shocked and more than a little afraid.

"It seems so." Olan added, shaking his head in amazement. "Mustadio, why don't you tell it to do something?"

"Like what?" The machinist asked, glancing over at him.

"I have no idea, but it seems that you're in control of it, since you put the stone in."

"Well, I suppose." Mustadio replied, rubbing his chin. "Automaton! Open that door for me!"

At once the golem turned, moving jerkily toward the door leading out of the room. As it walked something rattled within the steel giants frame, a gear or cog bouncing around inside. The large machine grasped the door's handle with one massive, steel hand, and pulled. Though it seemed to have exerted no effort at all, the door was torn easily from its hinges, taking a portion of the wooden jamb with it. The giant casually cast the ruined door to the side before stepping out of the way.

"Whatever it is," Olan noted with admiration. "It's incredibly strong."

"I think I'll call him… Rattletrap." Mustadio said with a grin, striding up to the golem. "Did you hear me, automaton? Your name is Rattletrap."

"**Designation Rattletrap Confirmed."**

"Seriously," Celia said, inching along the wall toward them. "Can we kill it?"

* * *

The loud, heavy thumping the golem produced as it followed them unnerved Valmafra a bit, and she found herself glancing back over and over again. Rattletrap trailed behind slowly, each step causing that wayward gear to bounce around inside. The twins had moved to the front of the procession, glad to be as far away from the metal giant as possible.

"I'll have to fix that when I get a moment." Mustadio mused, gazing back at his mechanical slave.

"Where are we going?" Olan asked as they descended the sloped corridor.

"The Templars have had us searching for stones, like I said before. Though we haven't found what _they_ want, it's incredible some of the things buried beneath the city. We've managed to keep most of them a secret from the Church, and I want to show you just what has kept me here for so long."

There was a kind of boyish excitement in the machinist, who was practically skipping as he guided them beneath the clockwork city. The curiosity and enthrallment he had with the steel golem paled in comparison to the nervous energy he had as he approached their dig site.

"It makes perfect sense now." He surmised as they walked, turning a corner and entering a massive chamber. "I'd never even _thought_ that the hole was designed for one of the holy stones. If one can power Rattletrap, it might very well work here too!"

"Work on what, precisely?" Olan asked, raising his eyebrow.

"_That!_"

All eyes followed Mustadio's outstretched hand, and Valmafra's gaze fell upon something that caught her breath in her throat. She'd never seen anything quite like it, and was at a loss for words. The sheer size of it brought her to a stumbling halt.

"Is that what I think it is?" Olan asked, incredulous.

"Yup." Mustadio replied with childlike glee. "It's an _airship_."

It looked only vaguely similar to an actual ship of the sea, sharing a hull design and center mast that mirrored such a vessel. The comparison ended there, with the rest of the ship appearing alien to Val. There were two large propellers jutting out on both sides of the ship, near the stern, as well as dozens of other strange devices she had never seen before.

"We've found perhaps a dozen of them, but none were even close to salvageable. Many were so badly damaged that we could barely tell what they were, but this one was almost completely intact."

"It's so big." The assassins spoke as one, the sight before them even putting the seasoned killers into a small state of awe.

"Actually, this one is smaller than most of them. It looks as though it was designed for more speed."

"How did they get here?" Valmafra asked, her voice soft.

"My theory is that there was a great air battle, hundreds of years ago, and they crash landed here. That would explain all of the damage to them."

"Does it work?" Olan asked, his excitement beginning to match the machinists.

"I can't say. We've been repairing what appeared to be damaged on it, but for the life of me I couldn't seem to discover what actually powered the ship."

"Do you really think one of the stones will?"

"There's a hole just like the one on Rattletrap, so I can think of nothing else."

Olan took the Libra stone from his pocket, staring at it for a long moment, before turning his attention to the young man next to him. They stared at each other for a long moment, before both broke into a grin, and jogged toward the craft. Valmafra had to dart to the side as Rattletrap matched their pace, threatening to bowl her over in his haste to follow his master.

The two men scrambled onto the airship, as Valmafra and the twins approached with less haste. The women, being more cautious, opted to remain a short distance from the ship. Olan and Mustadio were talking quickly, their excitement palpable as they jogged to the back of the ship. Valmafra looked on warily, glancing over at the assassins.

"No." The women said in unison.

"What?"

"No, you can't fly it before us." Celia said simply, a rueful smile touching her features.

"Who said I even wanted to fly it _with_ you?" Val replied, huffing.

"It's likely, dear sister, that Val may jettison us as soon as we're airborne." Lede said.

"Quite true. Perhaps we should tie ourselves off."

Soundly ignoring their japes, Valmafra watched as Mustadio slid the stone into the slot in the stern of the airship. Aside from the sound of Rattletrap struggling aboard the ship, the room was quiet, as all non-mechanical bipeds in the room held their collective breath. Finally there was a loud yet muffled boom, and the airship hummed to life.

The large ship slowly began to rise, just as Rattletrap finally made it onto the deck, and the humming grew louder. Mustadio and Olan burst out into hysterical laughter, running to opposite sides of the ship to look down at the ground they left behind.

However, their first flight was short lived. The ship had risen only a short distance before it groaned loudly, and fell with a deafening crash back to the earth. Mustadio looked crestfallen, his voice low and fast as he tried to find out what went wrong with a one sided conversation.

The sound of approaching footsteps drew Val's gaze to the corridor behind them, as an aging machinist rushed into the large chamber. Mustadio waved excitedly to him, vaulting over the side of the ship and taking off at a sprint. Rattletrap followed suit, his massive form impacting the ground hard enough to send vibrations all the way to the women.

"Father!" Mustadio said, panting. "It works! It actually flew for a moment! I need to do some tinkering and figure out what's wrong, but it works!"

"Good." Besrodio said anxiously, his expression agitated. "You better get to it, and quickly. The Templars are coming."

* * *

"Hand me that wrench." Mustadio said, hanging precariously into an opening in the deck of the airship.

"This one?" Olan asked, snatching up what he believed to be the correct tool.

Mustadio glanced up, nodded, and took the small iron wrench. Olan crouched near the hole as the machinist worked, nervously glancing back at the entrance to the subterranean room. The twins kept watch for any sign of the Church's knights, as Valmafra looked on. Rattletrap, imposing and silent, stood not far from Mustadio, watching with what Olan could swear was a kind of intelligence.

"I don't get it." The machinist whined, exasperated. "Everything seems to be working; I can't understand why this infernal thing won't stay aloft."

Olan shrugged, his gaze wandering over the ship. He knew nothing of machines, but it had seemed like the ship was losing power as it rose. The stone could bring it up from the earth, but it only took a few seconds before the airship lost its lift, and settled back down.

"Is there something that maybe takes the power of the stone to the ship?" Olan asked, doing anything he could to help.

Mustadio glanced over at him, a thoughtful expression on his face, and chewed on his lip. After a moment the machinist bounded to his feet, stumbling, and ran toward a set of stairs on the deck.

"Of course!" He called as he descended. "I messed with the power couplings to try and find some way to get it in the air."

"How long will it take to fix?"

"Not long. Give me maybe five minutes."

"I don't think we have that long." Val called, clambering onto the airship. "They're coming."

Olan jogged to the side of the ship, watching as the twins quickly stalked toward them. Mustadio joined him on the deck, frowning thoughtfully as he glanced down at his feet.

"We'll hold them off as long as we can." Valmafra said, motioning for the assassins to climb aboard. "_You_ get this thing into the air."

The machinist nodded, diving back into the bowels of the ship as the rest of them lined up at the railing along the port side of the ship. Olan took a deep breath, catching Val's gaze as she took up a position next to him.

"At least twenty of them, by our quick count." Celia informed them calmly.

"We can't keep them back for long." Olan noted, pulling a tome from his pack.

"Only a few minutes. Hopefully it will be enough." Val agreed.

They could hear the Templars approaching quickly, the voices of their rushed orders echoing through the expansive dig site. Valmafra raised both of her hands, closing her eyes and focusing on the entrance. Olan could feel the pull as the woman began to chant, her powerful magic slowly manifesting in the air in front of them.

The first knights to enter didn't know what hit them. The wave of force the sorceress blasted into them picked the handful of men up bodily, their cries of surprise cut short as they were thrown back into their allies and the solid walls of the corridor behind them.

Shouted voices reached them as more of the Shrine Knights burst into the room, and Olan brought his own unique skills to the fray. The second wave of soldiers were hit with the cosmic magic, a few of them brought to a dead stop. Those that remained mobile found themselves slowed to a crawl, trudging forward as if they were wading through a pool of molasses.

The twins took up a position in front of the two mages, knowing that in this fight there was little they could do against the men so far from them. A couple of the soldiers had the presence of mind to aim their crossbows at Val and Olan as they entered, firing their bolts with trained precision, but with little success. Celia and Lede easily caught the small shafts before they reached their mark, casting them aside casually.

Valmafra and Olan continued their assault, unleashing wave after wave of disruptive force. At this distance neither could bring their most potent spellwork to bear, and opted instead to keep the Templars back as long as they could. Powerful gusts of wind buffeted the soldiers as they struggled forward, coupled with Olan's debilitating slow effect, effectively keeping the men from rushing the ship.

Olan had thought things were going better than expected, as he felt the nearby thrum of machinery coming to life, when he heard the loud crack. He wasn't at first sure how he had ended up on his back, staring at the ceiling of the dig site, and his gaze landed on Valmafra as she dropped to his side.

It wasn't pain that spread along his chest, but an uncomfortable heat. The dull burning spread fast, and Olan tried to sit up and see what had happened. He suddenly couldn't breathe, staring down as a scarlet flower formed on his tunic. The shouts of the soldiers sounded much closer, as were the two following peals of false thunder.

* * *

Mustadio burst onto the deck of the airship, the echoes of the gunshots still bouncing through the air around him, and ran to the others. Olan glanced around, a befuddled look on his face, and Mustadio knew what had happened before he even reached them.

Without a word he grabbed the man's tunic, dragging Olan quickly away from the edge of the ship, and toward the more stable center. The twins had engaged a handful of Templars who had scrambled aboard the airship, and Mustadio had taken only two steps before another knight bound over the side of the ship, charging him.

The machinist fell to his back, the blade that was swung toward his throat missing by a hair, and drew the two pistols he kept tucked into his belt. He fired without hesitation, both shots taking the man square in the chest and lifting him into the air. The Templar disappeared over the side of the ship, as it began to rise.

Mustadio scrambled toward the helm, aware that they had little time before the soldiers fought their way past the assassins. Valmafra pulled Olan the rest of the way back, before arriving at his side, her formidable spells useless with the twins so close to her targets.

"Do you even know how to fly this thing?" She shouted over the din, her voice strained.

"Of course! Well, I think so..."

A bullet cut through the air less than a hand's distance from Mustadio's face, making him flinch. He glanced over to see the last person he expected to see standing with the Shrine Knights, and felt anger spiking in him.

"Balk."

The engineer that now took pot shots at them had once worked side by side with Mustadio's father, though he carried an air of arrogance and delusions of grandeur that Besrodio did not share. The two men had parted ways years ago on bad terms, and they hadn't seen the middle-aged machinist since.

Glaring at the man, Mustadio wrestled with the helm, and slowly the airship began to turn as it ascended. Celia and Lede darted along the starboard side of the ship, their speed unmatched as they struck down any foe that dared to come near them. The entire ship shook as it turned, vibrating and nearly knocking all of the combatants aboard to the deck.

"Mustadio, I'm not sure if you've noticed, but we can't fly _through the ceiling_!" Valmafra shouted, kneeling next to Olan and applying pressure to his wound.

He'd been mulling over the same problem for several minutes, and had been inspecting the ancient weapons below deck when the shooting started. His mind racing, Mustadio played with the controls of the craft, allowing it to pick up speed as they approached the far wall. If nothing else, he could try and ram the wall down. The stone wasn't too thick on the far wall, and a much larger dig site was on the other side.

The eruption of gunfire behind the ship broke Mustadio from his thoughts, and the machinist spun. He ran to the stern, stuttering to a stop and looking back at the dozens of Templars who had stopped pursuing them. From the same entrance the Shrine Knights had arrived came a barrage of iron shot. Several other engineers had taken up position in the corridor, firing liberally on the knights.

Along one wall stood Besrodio, shouting to the other men and firing his own weapon into the open space. Mustadio smiled as his father waved him on, and darted back to the helm, just as Celia tossed the last knight who had stormed the ship to the ground below.

"You're not planning to do what I think you are…" Val asked, her gaze locked on the swiftly approaching stone wall.

"We need to make an exit _somehow_." Mustadio called back, bracing himself for the coming impact.

"**Exit?"**

The engineer had all but forgotten about Rattletrap, standing in more or less the same position he had been the entire time. The steel giant gazed up at him with those unfathomable crimson eyes, before the golem turned, rattling as it lumbered toward the bow of the ship.

Mustadio watched with wide eyes as his mechanical slave came to a halt, raising both of its arms. He couldn't see just what Rattletrap was doing, but the sound of shifting steel was overridden by a distinct whine, a brilliant blue light forming in front of the metal man.

The blast came only moments before the bow of the ship impacted with the wall, a beam of strange energy firing from Rattletraps chest and into the stone. The golem slid backwards upon firing, massive steel feet tearing up several planks of the deck, as dust and rocks poured over the airship.

Valmafra shielded Olan's body with hers as a shower of small stones fell upon the deck. Mustadio squinted, unable to see through the cloud of dust, and concerned they were still going to hit the wall. It wasn't until a moment later that he realized they had already passed through it, and he shot a glance back. A massive, gaping hole dominated what was once solid rock.

"**Exit." **Rattletrap confirmed, turning to face him once again. **"Entering Recharge State."**

"I retract my previous statement." Celia said, dusting herself off. "Let's not kill it."

Mustadio laughed hysterically, guiding the ship through the much larger dig area, and toward the shaft leading to the surface. Once he was sure it was stable, he waved over one of the twins, unsure of which it was, and gave them the helm.

Olan had drifted into unconsciousness by the time Mustadio reached him, and he knelt near the injured man. Val was holding his hand tightly, still applying pressure to his chest to keep the bleeding down.

"How is he?"

"I can't say for sure." Valmafra said, chewing on her lip. "But it passed right through him, and it's closer to his shoulder than his heart. He needs a healer, soon, but I think… I think he'll be okay."

"I'll help you get him below deck. There are some bunks down there he can rest in."

Valmafra nodded, and together the two of them carried Olan down. Once he was settled, Mustadio went topside again, to see that they had already reached the surface. The open sky was inviting, a cool breeze rushing through his hair. Grinning, he turned to the woman he'd left at the helm.

"Not bad, I'd say you have a real knack for-"

His sentence fell as he saw the movement behind her. Balk rolled lithely over the stern railing, his agility surpassing his age, and drew a pistol. Mustadio didn't even have time to shout a warning before the man shot Lede in the back, the impact slamming her against the helm. The engineer turned quickly, the barrel on his gun rotating as the second assassin charged him, and fired again.

The bullet took Celia in the right thigh, knocking the woman's leg out from under her and flooring her. Mustadio dove as the man aimed at him, rolling behind the high mast of the ship as three iron shots peppered the wood in rapid succession. He'd never seen such a pistol before. All of the guns he'd used had to be reloaded after each shot, which took several seconds for even the best machinist.

Drawing both of his pistols, Mustadio peeked around the mast just as another round splintered the wood next to his cheek. He cursed quietly, mind racing to find a way to get a clear shot at the man.

"It's been awhile, young Bunansa." Balk called with a sharp laugh. "I must say I'm impressed. Even I had never believed one of these ancient crafts could be repaired."

"Considering how awful of a machinist you are, that doesn't surprise me." The young engineer shouted back.

"Guard your tongue, boy."

"Go to hell, old man."

Two more bullets struck the mast, and Mustadio wondered with amazement how many shots he had in that infernal gun. At that distance, he shouldn't have been able to place the shots so close together. Hell he was barely in range of Mustadio's pistols, and the young machinist was the best sniper around.

Hollow footfalls announced the approach of the older man, and Mustadio glanced around the mast to see him approaching the stairs to the lower deck. If he went below, he could finish off Olan and Valmafra in seconds, as Mustadio doubted she could risk using her spells in such close proximity.

Rising to his feet, Mustadio spun away from cover, aiming both of his pistols at the man. Two shots were fired at him instantly, tearing through the sky. The first went wide, missing him easily as he spun, but the second just caught him. Mustadio felt a flash of pain as the shot impacted on his left arm, forcing him to drop one of the pistols.

He fired instinctively, squeezing the trigger before Balk could get off a third shot, and nearly cried out when the bullet struck home. The round took the man in the gut, forcing the engineer to stumble to the top of the landing leading to the deck below. Anger flooded into Balk's features, a kind of dark rage Mustadio had never seen in the man. Balk aimed his pistol at Mustadio's chest, somehow ignoring the blood that seeped out from his stomach.

The man had forgotten, however, about Val. The bolt of lightning that leapt from the deck below took Balk full in the chest, lifting him bodily into the air, and casting him backward. The engineer's pistol fell with a thud, as his body disappeared over the stern.

Mustadio finally let the breath he'd been holding out, rushing toward the fallen assassins. Celia had managed to crawl up the three stairs that lead to the helm, and was seeing to her sister's wounds silently. Mustadio dropped to his knees next to them, distracted by the blood flowing down his arm.

"I already got it out." Celia said calmly, glancing at him. "Mine passed through."

He had to admire just how tough the woman was. His mind was perpetually focused on the pain in his arm, but the assassin seemed to shrug off her own wound as though it was nothing. Lede was in bad shape, worse than Olan, and Mustadio knew they had to get to a healer fast.

Before he could voice his plans, however, a piercing, unholy shriek pierced the sky. Mustadio was on his feet in an instant, snatching up Balk's strange pistol as he stood. Valmafra had come topside as well, covering her ears from the ululating wail. Mustadio saw the creature as it came over the side of the ship, deformed wings beating hard to keep it aloft.

The demon was skeletal in appearance, thin and gaunt, with leathery wings jutting out from the center of its spine. It swayed back and forth as it hovered above them, slowly circling toward the wounded women. The crooked, jagged teeth within its maw mashed together as it descended, a guttural laugh emanating from it. With a shock of realization Mustadio recognized what remained of Balk's clothes still draped over its frame.

"The sky belongs to Zarela, boy!" It hissed, dropping toward him.

Mustadio raised the pistol and fired as fast as he could. Three iron slugs rocketed from the barrel before the gun was empty, two of them catching the beast's leathery wing, causing it to veer off course. The demon landed lightly on the deck, the wound on its wing already healing as it scampered toward him.

The engineer backpedaled, trying to figure out how to reload the peculiar pistol as the Valmafra sent another bolt of lightning at it. Though the bolt struck it square, the demon seemed completely unfazed by the powerful spell, and cackled as it continued toward them. It was almost on top of him when a sharp, mechanical sound drew the creature's attention.

"**Lucavi Detected. Entering Defense State."**

The demon turned just as Rattletrap raised its arm. Zarela cocked his head to the side, assessing the steel giant, as Rattletrap's hand detached at the wrist. The appendage flew toward the demon, a long cable keeping the hand connected to the metal golem, and attached itself to the beast's neck.

Zarela screamed in anger and confusion, as the hand retracted, dragging the demon back to Rattletrap. Mustadio could only look on in amazement, as his steel slave fought. It struck the demon in the face with one powerful fist, knocking Zarela against the mast hard enough to crack it.

Rattletrap was surprisingly quick for its size, charging the stunned creature and pounding on the demon over and over. Zarela was considerably faster, but without the use of its wings it had few places to go to avoid the rampaging machine. Its claws glanced uselessly off of Rattletraps frame, and each attack it attempted only brought it close enough for the steel golem to make use of its devastating fists.

Mustadio watched in awe as the demon scrabbled across the deck, trying to gain some distance, and Rattletrap fired his hand off again. Zarela was snared, the massive hand gripping the thin demon's back, and dragged back. The steel giant lifted the demon high, both hands clamping it between them in a vice.

The plate covering the automatons chest separated, and for the first time Mustadio saw what lie beneath it. A strange, wide barrel was housed inside of Rattletraps frame, and once again that blue light built up within it. The Lucavi screamed in defiance as it was tossed into the air, and Rattletrap let loose with his cannon again.

Blue-white energy burst upward, the beam of focused light consuming Zarela completely. The demon sizzled out of existence, and the cannon powered down, forcing the steel giant to recharge once more. Mustadio watched as the stone fell from the sky, landing on the deck at his feet with a hollow thump. He stooped to snatch it up, rolling the stone around in his palm.

"Gemini."

* * *

**Author's Note:** I have to say this was one of the more fun chapters to write.

I originally intended to have Mustadio only play a very small role in this chapter, and he's still not going to be a major player in the story, but somehow he stole the entire scene it seems. I also didn't plan to include Worker 8 (Rattletrap) at _all. _I'm glad I did, and I wonder if anyone reading this will know where his given name comes from. I never see Worker 8 in a story, and I got to thinking how beastly he really was. So I decided why not let him kill Zarela, who was a pretty lame Lucavi. The fact that he/it recognizes the demons gives some interesting side-story to just what he may have been made for, other than manual labor. I enjoyed writing him as Mustadio's guard dog.

I've also decided to include Rafa and Malak, somewhat, who were also not intended to enter the story at all. That's why I love not having anything in my writing static except the main plot points. It's all constantly changing as I go. Let's just hope it doesn't sidetrack my plot. Not much more to say about the chapter, though I think I write a slightly better gunfight than a sword duel. Hope you liked it.

Orlandu and Gafgarion's super-fun adventure is next.


	20. Shadowed Past

**Chapter Twenty: Shadowed Past**

**

* * *

**

Cold rain pelted Cid's face as he towed his mount up the slope, the downpour obscuring his vision and making the man only a few paces in front of him nothing more than a shadowed outline. The grizzled, experienced knights had ridden hard most of the day, pushing on through the driving rain as they passed the Poescas Lake. It wasn't until the sun had been down for some time that they sought shelter in the hills near the southeast peninsula of Zeltennia.

Orlandu followed the Dark Knight through the loose stones and sparse grass, finally reaching the opening in the rock face they'd been seeking. The two men paused outside of it, eyeing the cave warily before Gaff turned to him.

"It may not be the most comfortable, but at least it's dry."

Cid said nothing as he dragged his distressed chocobo into the cavern. The roof was several heads taller than both men, but somehow felt rather close as he tried to calm his bird down. Chocobos were never very keen on being penned, and even less thrilled to be forced underground.

Neither of the knights spoke as they set up what would pass as their camp for the evening. Gaff prepared a fire as Cid unfurled his bedroll, ignoring the aches and pains of the hard ride and age. Scant minutes later they dined on dried meat in front of glorious warmth, trading their sopping clothes for more comfortable attire.

The entire journey had been, thus far, uneventful. The gap that separated the two knights seemed as wide as ever, and once more Cid wondered why he had decided to accompany the man at all. He'd initially told himself he couldn't trust Gaff's intentions. As they'd traveled a good portion of Ivalice, however, the former Nanten General began to wonder.

He had never admitted as much to anyone, but there was something different about the Touten. He was not the same man that Cid had known nearly a decade ago, and he could not place what that alteration was. That made him wary, as he couldn't say for sure if the man had changed for the better, or simply become more guarded.

"We've less than a day's ride, if my memory holds up." Gaff mused, his gaze distant.

Cid stared at the Touten for a long moment, frowning. They'd barely spoken to each other in the days they had journeyed, and what few words had passed had been essential. They discussed when to rest, how much time they had before sunset, where they could acquire supplies safely. There had been little real conversation.

"What are you doing, Gafgarion?" Cid asked, not bothering to dance around the subject.

"I'm afraid you lost me." Gaff replied, knowing full well what the other man meant.

"You have to have some agenda. A man such as you doesn't simply _offer_ his sword to a cause."

The Dark Knight seemed to stew on that for a moment, letting it simmer in his mind as he stared at the flames. Perhaps the man had been wondering the same thing, and had no answer for why he had taken up arms with them.

"It's the boy." He said finally, shrugging. "Curse him, but he has a way of getting through to you."

"Ramza?" Cid asked, raising one eyebrow. "I never expected you to offer your loyalty to anyone, especially not a member of the nobility."

"Ha," Gaff guffawed, grinning. "His blood means nothing, to him or to me. I dare say he's the only truly _noble_ man I've ever met."

"So you've offered him your sword, but what's in it for you?"

Gaff stared at him hard, his face cool and thoughtful. The wall had gone up, and Cid knew before the man spoke he would be getting no real answers out of him.

"We'll reach our destination by mid-day tomorrow." He said coldly, before sprawling out on his makeshift bed.

* * *

Though he'd never seen this stronghold before, Cid had of course heard of it. It was often said to be a myth, as those that lived within seldom left. Surrounded as it was by the myriad of cliffs and hills they had rode through, it stood to reason that few knew where it stood. Apparently Gafgarion was one of those people.

"Raithwall," Cid said casually, taking in the small fort with a sweeping gaze. "This was the last place I expected to visit."

"If you're not careful, old knight, it might be the last place you _do_ visit." Gaff said quietly as they entered the open gate. "The people here don't take kindly to outsiders. They're likely not to be thrilled to see me again, either."

"That doesn't surprise me. What brings you back here then?"

"I left something of some importance here, long ago."

"Insight into what that is would be appreciated."

"A sword."

"You dragged me to the ends of the earth so you could fetch a new sword?"

"It's hardly new," Gaff replied, glaring at him. "And I did not ask you to join me."

They walked silently through the small fort, aware of the eyes upon them, none of them friendly. As far as strongholds went, Raithwall was small in comparison. It had been named for an ancient king centuries ago, and constructed to protect the port city that had been built nearby. Time and war had consumed the city that was Raithwall's charge, and it had been largely forgotten.

"The less time we spend here the better." Gaff noted, heading straight toward a heavily fortified armory along the north wall.

As they approached the heavy doors to the building, a lone knight strode toward them. Gaff glanced at Cid purposefully, before he continued unabated, as though he intended to walk through the man.

"So it really is you." The knight said coldly. "I never took you for a fool, Gafgarion, but you must be to have returned here."

The man was rather young, but carried with him an air of authority that came from being forced to lead men. The fact that he approached a pair of seasoned knights alone spoke volumes of his confidence, or perhaps his arrogance. He was dressed in full plate, the armor a deep shade of blue-black, complete with a menacing helmet that was similar to those favored by lancers. Cid could tell easily that they were meeting a man who had trained in the same arts as the knight he had traveled with.

"I've only come for what is mine, Cecil." Gaff said calmly. "Then I take my leave of your beloved Raithwall."

"There is nothing for you here, knave." Cecil replied with scorn. "If you sought the Shadow Sword, you should have come with someone more intimidating than a retired knight."

"Excuse me?" Cid cut in, his casual interest gone completely. "Retired? My boy, your words are taking you down a path few men would dare tread."

The Dark Knight looked at him curiously, clearly unused to be spoken down to in such a way. His anger remained, but was tempered by a slight hesitation as he took a second glance at Cid, and more importantly the massive Excalibur blade hitched at his side.

"I'm sure even you, safely tucked away in your walls, have heard of Thundergod Cid." Gaff said with a low chuckle.

Cecil gave no outward sign of fear, but his anger quickly faded. He stared at Cid for a long moment, before his gaze shifted to Gafgarion. Silence held for several long seconds as the two men stared at each other.

"Now why would a wretched sell-sword such as yourself throw in your lot with a Nanten General?"

"My reasons are my own." Gaff replied coldly. "But we're not leaving here without _my_ sword."

"Very well." Cecil said, waving his hand dismissively. "Take the blasted sword, then leave, before I change my mind."

The man walked briskly away, glaring at Gafgarion as he passed, and the two aging knights strode to the armory. Gaff glanced back several times as they walked, his expression worried.

"That was too easy." He said as he reached the doors. "Far too easy."

* * *

"Impressive." Cid said with admiration, as they gazed upon the Shadow Sword.

It was without a doubt a prized weapon, resting upon a pedestal in the center of the armory. The sword looked as though it had been forged from obsidian, a midnight black so complete it seemed to actually steal away the light that filtered into the building. The blade was not quite as ornate as his Excalibur, but possessed a dark beauty and elegance to it that was unmatched in its own way.

"This is the only Touten weapon left in the world." Gaff said distantly, his gaze slipping back to the armory doors. "It augments our abilities in way no other blade can match."

"It seems strange, then, that they would let you walk out of here with it."

"It was once mine, in what seems another lifetime, but I do not believe they will."

"I expected as much." Cid replied with a sigh. "I'm curious to know how you made enemies of your own countrymen."

Gafgarion stared silently at the sword for a long moment, deep in thought. The blade seemed to bring a flood of memories back to him, distracting him from the present as he reminisced on his past. Cid allowed him the moment of reflection, wondering for the first time what darkness the Touten held in his heart and mind.

"Cecil had a sister, once." The man began. "She was beautiful and talented; A prodigy. She was, at the time, my best student. The things she could do with this sword… it was amazing to behold. Her name was Cerra."

"What became of her?"

"The Ordallians came to Raithwall, late into the war. They wanted to use this fort as a foothold for their incursions into Zeltennia, and we rode out to meet them. We managed to hold the fort, but she never made it home. I left after that, and never returned. The Ordallians attacked again not long after, and took Raithwall."

Cid realized, then, that it wasn't just the sword that the Touten had come back for. The man had left a part of him behind in Raithwall, an aspect that had been locked away for years upon leaving. Gaff never came to terms with letting the girl, whom he had loved as a daughter, die by his side. He'd traveled down an even darker road since then.

It was in the middle of that road that Cid had first met the Dark Knight, during his mercenary service against the Ordallians. He'd seen a man with no morals, who only cared for gil and the battle to come, and had pitied and instantly distrusted him. He could see now that Gaff had wished for death, longed for it even, but could not take his own life.

Something had changed in the man since then, and recalling their conversation the night before, Cid knew what it was. There was something different and, as Gaff had said, noble about Ramza Beoulve. Cid had never met a man so capable of bringing about change, in both men and kingdoms. It had been Ramza that had awakened the haunted memories Gaff held deep inside.

"Cecil blamed you for her death?"

"As well as the loss of his home. No doubt the Ordallians were less than merciful, considering how many of them we killed."

Gaff shook his head, snatching up the sword and turning away from the pedestal. The Dark Knight strode quickly to the doors of the armory, Cid not far behind him. He shoved them open roughly, stepping out into the afternoon sun, and the men who waited for them.

Most of the knights who stood before the armory were young and nervous, though a handful of them looked more experienced. None seemed pleased to be standing off against a pair of veteran knights, especially one with a reputation as renowned as Cid's, but they stood their ground.

Cecil glared across the open space between them, his sword already drawn. Cid sighed audibly, taking stock of the knights who sought to kill them, and crossed his arms. The Toutens glanced worriedly at their leader, looking to him for guidance.

"I'll have that sword." Cecil said icily.

"I'm sorry," Gaff said, his soft tone drawing Cid's gaze. "I truly am. If I could have died in her place, I would have."

Anger flared in Cecil's eyes, and with a terrible cry, he charged at Gafgarion. Gaff stood his ground, tightening his grip around the Shadow Blade. He stayed completely motionless as the young knight rushed him, waiting until the last moment to snap his sword up.

A wave of dark energy, almost opaque even in the bright sun, tore through the air between them. The attack weakened the old knight instantly, almost dropping him to a knee as the swordskill sapped his strength. Cecil stuttered to a halt, dragging his own blade downward as the wave flew toward him. He brought forth his own dark skills, attempting to cleave his way through.

His attempt was futile, as Gaff's attack consumed it and slammed into the young man. Cecil was flung backward, landing in a heap on the cobblestone street, struggling for breath. Cid couldn't say if the power had come from the sword, or the knight wielding it, but he had never seen the man use such an attack before. Gafgarion righted himself, closing his eyes and fighting down the effect the magic had taken on him.

"I won't have your blood on my hands as well, boy." He said quietly, striding toward the gathered knights.

The men moved to block him, though they seemed unsure of how to proceed. Gafgarion simply stared at them, as Cid walked up to stand beside him. It wasn't often that Orlandu found it suitable to use his own reputation as leverage, but it some instances it saved lives.

"I have no quarrel with you." Cid said calmly, as though engaging in nothing more than dinner conversation. "Please do not force me to kill all of you. I'm on a bit of a schedule, and would rather not waste precious minutes of my time."

The men glanced around nervously, before finally parting and allowing the two knights passage between them. As Gafgarion passed he paused at one of the older Toutens, placing a hand on the man's shoulder.

"See to Cecil. Go."

The man nodded after a moment before jogging toward the downed knight. Gaff and Cid walked away unmolested, with more eyes upon them than when they had arrived. Cid waited until they had left the fort, as his companion stopped to compose himself, before speaking.

"I hope having your sword back was worth it."

"You daft old man," Gaff said, chuckling darkly. "This sword isn't for me."

* * *

**Author's Note:** A short chapter, but I never intended it to be lengthy. I wanted to put some kind of backstory to Gafgarion, to make sense of the fact that he stuck around with Ramza. Given his role in the game, he's not exactly a nice guy. I wanted to play with that and explore it, and work with him a bit. So, I'm sorry if anyone was expecting some epic Back to Back Gaff/Cid fighting. The epic battles will come later, when there's epicness to be had.

I also included some cameos from other Final Fantasy games, just for the fun of it. Obviously Raithwall is a reference to FFXII, and I believe it makes sense something from that era would remain, at least in name, in Ivalice. Cecil is a homage to the original Dark Knight from FFIV (It was IV, right? I always get them mixed up!), as well as the sword Gaff picked up. He's not going to be doing anything in the actual story, since he's just a for fun cameo, but I thought it would be cool to put him in.

Moving right along to the next chapter.


	21. False Pretense

**Chapter Twenty-One: False Pretense**

* * *

"This is it?" Agrias asked.

Alicia nodded, looking sheepish. Rolling her eyes, the Holy Knight drew her blade, a scowl forming on her face as she kicked the door inward. She plunged into the building, her knights behind her, and quickly scanned the corridor. It was only a moment before a man burst into the passage, hand on the hilt of his sword. It wasn't who Agrias had hoped to meet, but he would do.

"Where is he?" She asked, her voice dark.

Zalbag Beoulve hesitated, confusion etching itself into his features. The Arc Knight slowly removed his hand from his blade, as another man jogged down the stairs behind him. Agrias did not recognize the second knight, though she had no doubt that she could handle the both of them. They would not stop her.

"Lady Oaks?" Zalbag asked, cocking his head to the side.

"I'll not ask again." The woman replied. "Where is he?"

"Ramza's not here. He left with our sister, and the Tingels."

"Running like a coward. I should have expected as much."

"Alicia, Lavian, what is the meaning of this?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Do not feign ignorance with me!" Agrias called, pointing the tip of her blade at him. "You know full well why we're here?"

The man gazed at her, confused, for a long moment. Suddenly realization hit him, and he glanced back at the other man. The man shrugged, and took his hand off his sword.

"Where is the Queen?" Zalbag asked, his concern a very convincing lie.

"The Templars took her." Lavian explained. "We were attacked on the way back to Zeltennia."

"Under your brother's orders, no doubt." Agrias added.

"Lady Oaks," He began, his tone serious. "I can assure you that Ramza would do no such thing, nor would any of us."

The audacity of his lies sickened her. It was clear he'd been caught, and he was just as cowardly as his younger brother for trying to deny it. Agrias wanted to spit on him, but he was too far. She instead snarled, stalking slowly toward him.

"Who took her?" Zalbag asked, his eyes on Agrias' knights rather than her.

"A man named Wiegraf." Alicia said quickly.

"Weigraf?"

Zalbag turned his attention to the man behind him, who stared at the floor thoughtfully. When the Beoulve finally turned back to face Agrias, her sword was at his throat, but he seemed unperturbed.

"Lower your sword." He said warningly.

"You'll not deceive me. I know Ramza is in league with the church, and I'll not stand here and be lied to when-"

The woman wasn't expecting to be grabbed from behind, her arms pinned to her side as Lavian and Alicia both restrained her. She surged against them, but the two women were strong enough to keep her arms trapped.

"Agrias, stop!" Alicia shouted. "Ramza wouldn't harm the Queen! You have to see that."

The Holy Knight struggled for a moment longer before her head fell, the sword slipping from her grasp to clatter to the floor. She went limp, collapsing into the arms of her knights, and began sobbing. She had failed, and now Ovelia was lost to them. Her only goal had been to keep the woman safe, and would have given her life to save her. Instead she had handed her charge to the Templars, and there was no telling what fate would befall her. She cared nothing for the war or politics surrounding her, she only wanted the Queen to be safe and sound.

Lavian and Alica sat with her, the arms around her less restraining than comforting, as Zalbag kneeled in front of her. The Beoulve placed a hand on her shoulder soothingly, reaching up to wipe away some of the tears of shame from her face.

"Do not despair. We'll get her back."

* * *

As far as places for a former Hokuten Commander to lay low, none could have been better than Gollund. The mining town was of no interest to either side of the war, so while it was under the control of the Southern Sky, it was hardly filled with watchful soldiers. The people of Gollund were mostly unaffected by the conflict, though they still enjoyed complaining about it.

The Inn Zalbag had chosen wasn't of the highest quality, but what one in Gollund would be? It would be suitable for the night at least, which was all they needed. After arranging for two rooms for the four of them, Zalbag gathered with the Lionsguard in Lavian and Alicia's room. They'd made good time thus far, but haste was of the essence.

"That man, what was his name again?" Lavian asked, looking a little ashamed she had forgotten.

"Beowulf."

"Yes, that's it. He's sure Wiegraf is in Riovanes?"

"Last he had heard that's where the Church had stationed him. He was the Emissary to Grand Duke Barinten."

"This Barinten, will he be a problem?" Alicia asked, frowning.

"I doubt it. Duke Barinten has remained out of the war thus far. He has always prided himself on being a self-sufficient ruler. Unless it's for his own personal gain, he won't be involved."

"Let's just hope, then," Agrias said quietly. "He has nothing to gain from the Queen being taken."

Zalbag glanced over at the Holy Knight. She'd kept mostly to herself since they had left Bervenia, speaking little and usually just to her fellow St. Konoe. No doubt she still didn't fully trust him, and he couldn't fault her for that. They were, _technically_, enemies. Agrias had no way to know that Ramza and the others didn't really want to fight the Southern Sky, and Zalbag didn't know how to explain their real goal to her.

"If Wiegraf took her there, which I must say is not likely, we'll do whatever is necessary to get her back." Zalbag assured her. "What I expect is that we can at least find out where he's gone since leaving Riovanes, which is a good start."

They spoke for a few minutes longer before Zalbag and Agrias retired to their own room, silence reigning as the woman prepared a bath. Zalbag stared at the ceiling, vaguely noting the sound of sloshing water in the small washroom, and thought. He'd never expected Wiegraf to lend his sword to the Templars, but with the true motives of the Church he shouldn't have been surprised.

He had to wonder what leverage they had to recruit the former Death Knight, however. Wiegraf was as distrustful of the Church as he was of the aristocracy, and for him to completely turn on his own twisted morals was cause for some contemplation. The Templarate must have had something he wanted, some cause he saw appealing. Perhaps he had been swayed by the Lucavi, in which case there was little hope for Ovelia.

Though he was exhausted, Zalbag was still awake when Agrias came back into the room, lying on his back with both hands beneath his head. The Holy Knight stared at him for a long moment before she climbed into her own bed, rolling away to face the wall. The only sound for a long time was their breathing, as Zalbag's thoughts fought sleep away.

"I'm sorry." Agrias said quietly, her voice sounding strange after such a long silence. "I should not have accused you as I had. I simply…"

"Do not worry over it." Zalbag replied casually. "I understand your reasons, and can't blame you for them. Were I in your situation, I would have assumed the same."

"Still, I should not have called your honor into question," She continued. "Regardless of where our allegiances lie."

Zalbag glanced over at her back, damp blonde hair spilling across the sheets as she stared out the window next to her bed. Though he'd never met Agrias Oaks before she'd stormed into Bervenia, Ramza had spoken very highly of her, despite her siding with Delita against him. When Zalbag had asked why he defended her when she had helped wipe out hundreds of men at Bethla, Ramza merely smiled knowingly. What wisdom did his little brother possess that Zalbag did not?

* * *

Something was amiss in Riovanes Castle, though Agrias couldn't quite put her finger on what. They'd been escorted silently by what she could only guess were a pair of Duke Barinten's famous assassins, though they hardly looked the part. The Holy Knight watched them warily as they walked through the dimly lit passage, taking note that aside from them the castle seemed to be deserted.

It was a man and a women, likely younger than she, both dressed in attire she had never seen. They wore white cloth, with no armor or weapons save the strange rods that rested diagonally across their backs. Judging by their appearance, it was likely they were siblings, for they possessed the same deep mahogany hair and dark complexion.

Agrias glanced sideways at Zalbag as they began to climb the stairs to Barinten's antechamber, noticing he too seemed concerned by the lack of knights within the castle. Agrias had only visited Riovanes once before, while escorting a member of the nobility, but she could distinctly remember the Grand Duke's penchant for heavy security. It was peculiar that he would change his ways.

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, the assassins separated, taking up positions on either side of the large door. Agrias nodded to them, striding forward to open the door. The man stepped forward, raising one hand to stop her, before turning his gaze to Lavian and Alicia.

"They must remain here."

Agrias glanced at the women, frowning. She didn't wish to leave either of them behind, but it wasn't uncommon for a ruler to insist that bodyguards not be admitted into their chambers. With a small sigh, she nodded to the women, who shrugged in return, and opened the door.

As Agrias and Zalbag entered, the two assassins followed them in, closing the door and blocking it. The Holy Knight paid it little mind, stepping lightly down the three stairs to where the Grand Duke waited. The aging ruler of Riovanes sat at his desk, shadows dancing off of his face in the candle light, and watched them with undisguised interest.

Moving to stand directly in front of Barinten's desk, Agrias and Zalbag bowed their heads respectfully, as was the custom when dealing with a ruler, though Duke Barinten was actually considered of lesser blood than the Beoulve who stood before him. His position had been attained by cut-throat politics and military means, as somehow the more obvious choice for the new ruler had committed suicide. Nothing had ever been pinned on Barinten, and the decades since had made many forget what had happened, but Agrias was sure he'd killed his rival for power.

"Grand Duke Barinten." Zalbag said casually. "It has been some time since we'd last met."

The man said nothing. Slowly he laced his fingers together, staring coldly at Zalbag for a moment before his gaze slipped over to Agrias. There was something dark in his eyes beyond the selfish, greedy man she knew him to be. That sense of foreboding came over Agrias again, as she stared into the shadows that passed over his face.

"What brings you to Riovanes?" He asked finally, his voice devoid of emotion.

"We heard that a man named Wiegraf Folles had come here on behalf of the Glabados Church."

"He came, and he left."

"So he is no longer within Riovanes?"

"No."

"Then we're sorry to have wasted your time, My Lord. Do you happen to know to where he departed?"

Again the man was silent, his gaze wandering back to Zalbag's face. Agrias couldn't shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong. She couldn't begin to fathom where this feeling of dread came from, but she was sure that Zalbag was under the same impression by the distant look on his face. Agrias suddenly thought that coming to Riovanes had been a bad idea.

"Let me make things simple for you." Barinten said, sitting back in his chair. "Hand Taurus over to me, and I'll let you both leave with your lives."

Zalbag's hand instantly jumped to his chest, gripping something that lie within his tunic, and his eyes narrowed. Agrias knew little of what they spoke, though she was educated enough of the Church's motives to know of the holy stone recovered from Goug. She stared at Zalbag thoughtfully, curious how the eldest living Beoulve had acquired it.

"What are you?" Zalbag asked, only to have the Grand Duke laugh in his face.

"We are the future."

Duke Barinten nodded to the assassins, rising to his feet as they slipped from the room.

* * *

Alicia tapped her foot idly as they waited, arms crossed over her stomach as she grew more impatient. Lavian was more relaxed, sitting on the landing with her chin resting in both hands. It had been only a few minutes since Agrias had gone in to see the Duke, but already Alicia was growing anxious.

She didn't trust Barinten, and had expressed as much to her commander to no avail, and wasn't comfortable being in Riovanes. The Grand Duke had a reputation for being uncommonly ruthless when dealing with his enemies, and Alicia couldn't honestly believe he would consider them allies. She merely hoped that the Templars hadn't gotten to him first.

As the door opened, she turned, relief washing over her. That feeling swiftly faded as the assassins stepped out, and only one glance at the man and woman had her reaching for her sword. There was no subtlety in their cold, focused expression.

She hadn't gotten it halfway from the scabbard when the tan skinned woman raised her hand, and wordlessly blasted her down the stairs. The unfamiliar magic formed around her randomly, illuminating the air near her before Alicia was hit full in the chest. Her breastplate absorbed most of the impact as her body flung backwards.

Alicia landed roughly several steps down, scrambling to her feet as her compatriot jumped up. Lavian, though distracted, was quick on the uptake. The woman spun as she leaped to her feet, drawing steel as the man moved against her. He had his staff in hand in an instant, thrusting it toward her skull as she rose. Lavion ducked low, rolling across the landing and away from his blow.

The knight cursed, her armor clattering as she ran back up the stairs, and met the woman's rod with her flat of her blade. Deflecting the horizontal strike quickly, Alicia shoved the assassin back as hard as she could, reaching the landing and sidling away from the stairs.

She was more comfortable with the small stone wall to her back, wary of being blasted back by that unique magic again, and gripped her sword with both hands. The dark haired woman angled toward her, cocking her head and regarding her curiously, her face blank and distant.

The knight scowled, lunging forward to stay close to her foe. The assassin had the advantage of reach with her long staff, and would no doubt use it. Alicia closed the small gap between them, hoping her friend was faring well against the other of Barinten's killers, and slashed down. The assassin blocked the strike with the center of her staff, a small sleeve of iron keeping the weapon from being split, and pushed Alicia away.

The rod was whipped around quickly as the Lionsguard knight stumbled back, flying in a wicked arc with enough velocity to break bones. Alicia fell back, rolling as she slipped beneath the staff, and quickly bounded to her feet. The assassin continued after her, thrusting quickly with the blunt end of her staff. Alicia took the blow full on the chest, thankful her breastplate was well padded, and slapped the woman's rod aside.

Alicia was ready when the assassin's hand came up again, quickly darting toward the edge of the landing. Planting one foot upon the low wall, the knight dove away, arcane energy exploding behind her as she fell toward the floor below. She rolled upon landing, coming up in a crouch. Above her the assassin drove her staff down, using it to vault smoothly over the wall and down toward her. All the while, that same cool calculation remained.

* * *

With what seemed nothing more than a flick of the wrist, Barinten flung the heavy desk to the side. It flipped once before crashing into the stone wall, shattering as the Grand Duke charged at them. Agrias stood in a state of shock, her mind trying to grasp how the overweight noble could be so strong. As Barinten bore down on her, the Holy Knight panicked for a moment, before rough hands shoved her away.

Zalbag pushed them apart, diving away as the Duke barreled through where they had been standing. Smiling devilishly, the man turned slowly, facing Agrias with that same dark shadow in his eyes. She drew her sword, despite the fact every instinct was telling her to run, and took a defensive stance.

What happened next would forever haunt the woman's dreams. Standing the middle of the room, the Grand Duke began to _change_. His arms began to elongate, popping audibly as bone and sinew reformed, the transformation shredding the heavy cloak that he had donned. Agrias felt her mouth fall agape, shock and horror taking over as she witnessed this abomination.

Wicked claws formed on one hand, as the opposite appendage underwent an even more drastic alteration. A black carapace began to form over the man's right arm, bulging out until his hand became a massive pincer, easily as large as the Holy Knight's torso. It snapped open as Barinten let loose a piercing wail that chilled Agrias to the core.

As the carapace spread to cover the man's entire right side, several segments crawled down his spine, forming a prehensile tail with a razor sharp talon at the end. The tail whipped back and forth as though it had a mind of its own, the scream dying off as it finished the transformation.

"Behold Zeromus, the condemner of men!" The creature roared in a malicious voice.

"What the hell _is_ that thing?" Agrias cried, her gaze darting to Zalbag.

"One of the Lucavi." Zalbag explained quietly, looking just as disgusted as she.

"The demons of legend?" Agrias asked, shocked. "That's impossible! Those were fairy tales, meant to scare children."

"I'd say it was more than a myth."

Agrias couldn't comprehend what was happening. Demons didn't exist, not really. They were unbelievable monsters, analogies the church used for the evils of men. There couldn't be true, flesh and blood Lucavi living among them It had to be some trick, some sorcery. Agrias couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that she was facing one of the demons that sought the end of all mankind.

Before she could explain to Zeromus that he wasn't real, just a literary creation of the Glabados Church, the beast charged her. Agrias backed furiously, stumbling away as the monster closed the distance between them, that terrible claw snapping as it came for her.

The demon was met with a blast of magical power, as Zalbag unleashed his swordskills on the beast. Zeromus turned on the spot, dashing toward the more immediate threat, his clawed feet gouging the stone floor. Agrias was still recovering her wits, watching in shock and disgust as Zalbag fought the Lucavi.

Zeromus' pincer met with the Beoulve's sword, batting Zalbag's arm away with enough force to make the man stumble. He recovered quickly to sidestep a vicious slash from the demon's other hand before dragging his blade along the monster's flank.

Hands shaking, Agrias raised her sword, forcing herself to act. She wouldn't let the man face down such a creature alone, even if she was terrified of trying to fight the demon. She had her honor to hold to. With a cry of defiance, she charged at its rear, ducking below the tail as it whipped toward her head. She drove her blade home, wincing as it glanced uselessly off of the demon's protective shell, and backed quickly away.

Zalbag remained close to the beast, hacking away at its more vulnerable left side and avoiding that massive pincer as best he could. Agrias circled toward him, waiting until she was sure her skills wouldn't harm him before she used them. The Holy Knight raised her sword, muttering an enchantment and bringing a massive shard of ice down upon their enemy.

No sooner had the spell struck Zeromus than his tail sought her once more. It snapped to her, wrapping tight around her sword arm, and yanking the woman into the air. The demon slammed Agrias against the wall before flinging her to the ground, the tail's hold on her arm constricting until she was afraid she would lose hold of her weapon.

Acting fast, the Holy Knight reached for her boot, drawing the long dagger stowed there with her free hand. The Lucavi was still busy with Zalbag, forcing the man back as it slashed out at him with claws and its pincer, which gave Agrias a precious moment to slash at the tail that was crushing her wrist.

With a smooth swing, she cleaved through it, freeing her arm as the demon screamed in pain. The distraction proved enough for Zalbag to move away from the corner he was being backed into, as Agrias ripped the flailing remnant of the tail from her arm with disgust.

The pain in her forearm and wrist was great, and it was likely a bone had been broken. A few more moments would have seen her arm crushed and completely useless. Dropping the dagger and switching her sword to her off hand, Agrias scrambled up, biting down on the throbbing agony in her arm.

Zalbag laid into the creature with another swordskill, and Agrias followed suit, blasting it with another freezing shard. The demon seemed torn between them, now that Agrias was no longer standing in shock and fear. Her terror had subsided into righteous fury that such a creature would walk the earth, and she no longer thought of her own demise. Her attention was occupied in trying to discern how to destroy this abomination.

Zeromus rounded on her, the elongated, clawed digits on its left hand stretching to her as the Lucavi muttered in an ancient language. Not a moment later an orb of pure darkness burst from the outstretched hand, drawing loose parchment and rubble from the battle toward it as it flew through the air toward Agrias.

The woman dove as the sphere reached her, narrowly avoiding the spell, causing it to instead impact the wall behind her. Agrias felt herself sucked backward mid leap, the spells detonation catching everything in its gravity for a moment, before it exploded outward. The Holy Knight was flung forward, rolling through the air before she slammed into the floor hard enough to knock the wind from her, and slid into the opposite wall.

Struggling to catch her breath and gain her footing, Agrias rose, using her sword to prop her up. The demon had once again turned its attention to the eldest living Beoulve, snapping that massive claw open. Zalbag raised his sword, preparing to charge the beast, when the same undeniable pull made its presence known.

The demon used its ancient magic to begin drawing the former Hokuten toward its deadly pincer, Zalbag struggling to fight the potent graviga spell in vain. The Beoulve was lifted into the air and yanked forward as though a rope had been wrapped around his waist. To Agrias' horror she saw the claw clamp down on the man's torso, lifting him high above the demon.

She was running as Zeromus began to crush the man, the beasts hollow cackling filling the room, as Zalbag drove his sword into the beasts arm over and over. Agrias could hear the sound of bone scraping steel as the demon constricted Zalbags chest, the only thing giving it pause the plate armor between it and the man, and she raised her sword.

The holy explosion took the demon across the back, the powerful sword skill causing the creature to stumble as she reached it, planting one foot on its leg and leaping up. Crying out in righteous fury, the Holy Knight gripped her sword with both hands, the pain in her wrist adding fuel to her inner fire, and slashed down at the monsters head.

Zeromus screamed as the blade bit deep into its armored skull, shaking hard in an attempt to throw the woman off. Agrias clung to it's side tenaciously, her injured hand clamped down on the demon's shoulder as it flailed. The movement brought Zalbag closer, and despite the agony he was in, the Beoulve was still clear-headed enough to thrust his own sword forward, burying it in the Lucavi's throat. Agrias yanked her sword free, slashing down once more at the back of the demons neck before she was tossed from it, landing in a heap on the floor.

The monster stumbled, that crushing claw finally releasing Zalbag, as it scrabbled to remove the pair of swords that had been buried into it. Roaring and flailing, Zeromus fell to his knees, before finally that dark energy swarmed from within. Agrias began to be pulled across the floor as the demon's life ended in a terrible black vortex.

With a thick, hollow thud, the Cancer stone fell to the floor.

* * *

Alicia finally managed to land a cut, a feeling of triumph washing over her as blood trailed in an arc behind her horizontal slash. The wound on the woman's stomach was shallow, and the assassin gave no sign that it gave her any pause, countering with a blow to the knight's shoulder hard enough knock her onto her rear.

Scuttling away, the female knight rolled away from the next attack, the rod smashing down onto the stone floor with a loud crack. Alicia leapt up, rushing forward while the woman was vulnerable to finish her off. Thrusting ahead, she aimed the tip of her sword toward the dark skinned assassin's midsection.

At that moment her opponent's eyes seemed to clear, and with a shock her head shot back, the staff falling from her grip. Alicia hesitated, halting her killing blow with the sword a hair from the woman's navel, and frowned. The assassin looked around quickly, eyes wide, before her gaze landed on Alicia's.

"Where… where am I?"

The knight did not drop her guard, in case this was a ruse to get her complacent, and cocked her head to the side. Glancing at her fellow knight, who still stood atop the landing, she noticed a similar reaction in the other assassin, unarmed and scrambling down the stairs with concerned urgency.

"Rafa!" He called as he stumbled, panting, and grabbed the girl.

The man had a deep gash in his left arm, blood pouring unnoticed down his bicep as he pulled his sister into a tight embrace. The woman, still befuddled, clung to him. Alicia took a step back, her confusion echoed in the eyes of Lavian, and lowered her sword.

It was only a moment later that the door to Barinten's chambers open, and Agrias emerged a bloody mess. She supported Zalbag, favoring one arm and looking as though she'd been through hell itself. Lavian dashed to them as Alicia looked on, unwilling to turn her back on the assassins.

"Lady Oaks!" Lavian said, helping her hold Zalbag up. "What happened?"

"The Duke… he was… a monster."

Alicia didn't understand. Barinten was hardly a skilled swordsman, and the woman was sure that there were no other knights in the room with him. How had he taken on both Agrias and Zalbag himself? It hadn't occurred to her that her commander had meant monster in the literal term.

"Is he dead?" The male assassin asked, still holding fast to his sibling.

"Yes." Agrias said, panting. "We managed to take him down, but Zalbag is in dire need of attention."

"Quickly, follow me." The dark skinned boy ordered, motioning for them.

* * *

Zalbag drank slowly, wincing as even the smallest movements made his ribs and back ache. He relished the pain, using it as a reminder of how close he'd been to the abyss. If Agrias hadn't gotten to the demon when she had it was likely he would have been crushed, and had more to worry about than a couple of cracked ribs.

He handed the cup back to Lavian, and took a deep breath. He could stand with a little help, and walk with a cane, but knew that before too long the pain in his body would fade. Rising with Lavian's arm beneath him, the Beoulve nodded to her, and they made their way out of the small room.

The others were in another bedroom, anxiously waiting for Zalbag. The man took a seat as Alicia pulled a chair out for him, letting his breath out in a rush as he leaned back comfortably. Agrias stood not far off, her hand wrapped in bandages the same as his entire chest, and looked him over appraisingly.

"Are you feeling well?"

"Hell no." Zalbag said, laughing. "But I'll live, thanks to you."

"It was nothing." Agrias replied, glancing away nervously at the praise.

"I'm sorry to be rude, but I don't believe I've gotten your names." Zalbag said, his eyes turning to the white clad assassins.

"My name is Rafa," The woman said, her voice light and sweet. "And this is my brother, Malak. I'm so… terribly sorry for our actions. We could not stop ourselves."

She bowed respectfully to Lavian and Alicia, her face soft and full of shame, and a moment later she elbowed Malak hard to force him to do the same. He seemed less remorseful for his actions, but in Zalbag's experience men generally were. Few possessed the true honor and bravery to admit they had done wrong.

"What happened?" Alicia asked, glancing at the bandage that covered Rafa's midsection.

"I'm not sure. We've worked for Barinten for… as long as I can remember. He was a bastard and swine, but I'd never thought he could control someone as completely as he did us. If he could… I don't know why he waited until now."

"He wasn't the Grand Duke anymore, not really." Zalbag answered, sighing. "He was one of the Lucavi."

"Lucavi?" Malak asked, looking suspicious. "What's a Lucavi?"

"You've never heard the legends of the demons?"

"Sorry, we're not exactly… members of your Church. We come from a village far away." Rafa supplied.

"The Lucavi are powerful and ancient creatures, said to be immortal. My brother and I have been trying to hunt them down and destroy them, and stop whatever plans they have been trying to bring to pass."

Agrias shot a look at him, frowning thoughtfully. Something seemed to click in the woman's head, before she stared off into the distance once again. Zalbag adjusted himself, hissing at the sharp pain in his side, before he continued.

"After slaying one, I'd say Ramza wasn't lying when he said it was no small feat."

"Did you say Ramza?" Rafa asked, glancing at her brother.

"Yes, do you know him?"

"No, but there was a man who mentioned him." She added, pinching her lip between her fingers. "Before we lost control of ourselves, Barinten met with two Templars. A powerful sorcerer and a man named Wiegraf, and Ramza's name was brought up."

"Do you remember what he said?" Agrias asked, her voice urgent.

"Something about a book and a monastery."

"Did he mention the Queen?" Agrias continued.

"I don't believe so. This was weeks ago, but I'm fairly certain he never mentioned her."

"Thank you Rafa." Zalbag said with a smile. "That's very helpful. What will you do now?"

"Now that Barinten is dead?" She asked innocently. "We'll live. It feels like forever since we've done that."

"I hate to ask this of you, after what you've been through." Zalbag dropped his gaze, mulling over his words. "Barinten isn't the only threat around, and we need as much help as we can get."

"We've no love for war." Rafa said, glancing at her brother questioningly.

"If ever you need us, come." Malak said with finality. "If these Lucavi are responsible for this, we'll do what we can to rid the world of them. I'm sure there are… others here who would do the same, should we ask."

"What of you?" Rafa asked, glancing between the knights. "Where will you go now?"

"If the book Wiegraf is seeking is what I believe it to be, then I know where we may find him."

"Where?" Agrias asked, her gaze cool and focused.

"Orbonne."

* * *

**Author's Note:** First I have something to address, and thanks to Caellach Tiger Eye for picking up on it. I rewrote Chapter Fourteen, or at least part of it, and in doing so forgot that I wasn't planning on Reis and Beowulf being in possession of Cancer. I have since changed the scene slightly and added in that Aquarius is the stone that returned Reis to human form. Which makes sense to me, seeing as she possessed it and whatever powers were in tune with the stone would know of her affliction. It's ironic that he noticed this as I'm writing the Chapter with Cancer, and the timing couldn't have been better. I'd also like to note, and I should have mentioned this, that Fort Raithwall isn't actually Raithwall's Tomb from Final Fantasy XII. It's actually a fort named centuries before by people that had come there from the region of Ivalice where Raithwall existed. Sorry for any confusion that caused.

That is pretty much the end of the 'side-quest' chapters where I'm focusing on the point of view of only those within a certain party. There were some story elements to push forward, and with that done we begin to reach the end of Part Two. Expect to see more Ramza finally, after being missing for a little bit, as well as some of the spread out groups meeting up. I hope you like where the story is going, and have plenty of surprises in store for the end of this Part and the entire Part Three.

**Caellach Tiger Eye: **You have an uncanny ability to mention what I'm actually working on at that very moment. As you've noticed I'm actually bringing some of the other Lucavi in other than Chaos, and in fact I plan on using just about every stone not in the possession of Ramza and Co. It's up to you to guess who will be the next Lucavi! Thanks again for noticing the Cancer mistake, and you couldn't have had better timing. I agree with you that a lot of the 'enemies' in FFT were just on the wrong path and too far gone to do anything about it. That's partly the reason that Gaff and Zalbag are playing the roles they are here. If I'm going down the what-if road, I might as well have fun with characters who _could_ have been Ramza's allies.

**Gambit Knight: **Initially the Gaff/Cid chapter was going to have a lot more Grumpy Old Men in it, but I had to temper their old codgerness with a dose of Gaff's history, which was too dark for any jokes. I played around with Cid's reputation a bit, but couldn't really explore their old man back and forthing. Perhaps in a later instance I can play with it more.

**Slayermitch: **You know your Dota? :o

Thanks for reading!


	22. Questions

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Questions**

* * *

"Thank you, we've been too long without a warm bed." Ramza said, wiping his mouth.

"It's nothing my boy. You know you're always welcome here."

They'd reached Orbonne Monastery just as the sun was setting, and were greeted with a bright smile and open arms. The Dark Knight had always been fond of the Priest who looked over Orbonne, and taken care of Alma for the years she had lived within its walls.

"I must confess we aren't here for simply a friendly visit." He said, smiling at the aged man. "We have your scriptures with us."

"Oh, I see." The Priest replied, nodding. "I expect you'd like me to have a look at them?"

"Only if it's not too much trouble." Alma said, setting her spoon down.

"My dear, there is very little to keep an old man busy these days, unlike the times I had to keep you and Ovelia focused on your studies. Translating takes time, however, so don't expect answers in a day."

"That's fine." Ramza added, shrugging. "We're in no rush anyway."

After dinner Alma set up four beds in the dormitory where she had once spent her nights laughing with the Queen, as Simon retired to his own room. Ramza found that the soft bed did wonders for his tired muscles, and was asleep almost as soon as his head reached the pillow. He dreamt of Igros and Alma, and days gone by. When he was awakened by a hand on his shoulder, sun was slipping in through the shudders above him.

"Ramza," Izlude said, shaking him. "Get up. We have visitors."

The young knight smirked, leaving without saying just who had showed up at the monastery and how they knew Ramza would be there. Shrugging it off, Ramza dressed quickly, trying to restore order to his hair as he made his way to see who had come.

He'd no sooner entered the room than familiar, booming laughter assaulted him. Gaff sat at the table that they had eaten at the night before, patting his stomach and motioning for Ramza. Taking a seat next to Meliadoul, who smiled and absently fingered his tangled hair, he nodded to Cid and Gaff.

"I expected you would come here." The Dark Knight said.

"Did you find what you were seeking?" Ramza asked, yawning.

"That and more, my boy." Gaff reached beneath the table as he spoke, and set an unfamiliar sword on the table in front of him.

"What's this?" Ramza inquired, examining the sheath that housed the blade.

"It's customary for a master to help his apprentice forge their own weapon. I'm far too lazy for that, so this is for you."

Ramza frowned, reaching across the table and dragging the sword to him. He slowly drew the weapon, surprised further when he discovered that the blade was a shade of midnight he'd never seen on a sword. The young knight hefted it, feeling its weight and balance, before he stared down the length of the blade.

"It's called the Shadow Sword, but I always referred to it as Shadow. It's quite possibly the last Touten blade in Ivalice."

"Touten blade?" Mel asked, running a finger down its length.

"This sword, and those like it, were forged with the purpose of increasing a Dark Knight's power. It's similar to your Save the Queen, or other enchanted swords, though unique in its own way."

"It feels… interesting." Ramza noted, turning the sword in his grasp.

"I would say you should try it out, but I'm sure Simon wants to keep his monastery intact."

"Indeed I would." The Priest noted, nodding.

"Is it really that powerful?" Izlude asked, raising an eyebrow.

"In the hands of a truly gifted Dark Knight, it's nearly unbeatable."

"Pity we don't have one of those." Alma added, poking her brother lightly with one finger.

"There's something else as well." Cid said, his expression grave. "The Templars have finally taken Gariland, and word has it that Vormav himself is there."

Ramza let his gaze drift to Meliadoul in time to see that cool, distant look pass over her face. He'd tried to approach the topic of her father on only a couple occasions, and each time the woman had walled him off. Ramza had his suspicions when it came to the patriarch of the Tingel family, but never had the opportunity to discuss them.

"Have they moved on Dorter?" Izlude asked, his voice quiet.

"Not yet. It seems the Church is content with that foothold for now, though there's always a chance they'll make a move for Igros."

"Do you think they have the troops to lay siege to it?" The young Tingel continued.

"I can't say for sure. It's hard to tell what numbers they truly have."

"I'm going to Gariland." Meliadoul said suddenly, rising from her chair.

"What? Why?" Izlude seemed surprised at her sudden interest in their father's activities.

The woman glanced at him, her expression blank, before she strode swiftly out of the room. Ramza watched her as she left, wanting nothing more than to chase her down and take her in his arms. The conflict beneath the surface was obvious, as Mel struggled with the idea of Vormav as her enemy.

"Izlude," Ramza said finally, turning his gaze to his friend. "Can you remain here with Alma?"

"Of course." He replied, looking torn. "But how will you get into the city?"

"I know Gariland better than the Templars. It shouldn't be a problem."

Izlude nodded, as an awkward silence fell upon the room. Ramza stared down at the sword in his grasp for a long moment before he sheathed it, rising as well and setting off after Meliadoul.

"Ramza," Izlude called, his voice urgent. "Don't let her do anything rash."

The Dark Knight nodded silently, buckling Shadow to his belt, and jogging from the room. He caught up to Meliadoul as she was gathering her things, snatched up his pack, and slung it over his shoulder. The woman paused, kneeling next to her armor, and stared at him for a long moment before speaking.

"What are you doing?"

"Coming with you."

"I didn't ask you to do that."

"I know," Ramza said, smiling. "And you'll never have to."

* * *

Ovelia hadn't spoken since she arrived at Murond, despite the inquiries levied at her by the High Priest. The Templars had left her untouched, though she had been verbally assaulted more than she would have liked. Sighing, the Queen Royal stood and walked to the window of her chambers. She'd be locked in her bedroom for days, only trotted out to be questioned further.

She wondered if Delita had heard of her capture. As far as she knew, the Church hadn't made her imprisonment common knowledge, but why she couldn't say. They had possibly the most potent bargaining chip under their thumb, and it scared her that they weren't using it. The only conclusion Ovelia could come to is that the High Priest had some motive for not announcing her capture. Either that or they planned to simply kill her.

The rap on her door was so soft Ovelia almost believed she had imagined it, but a moment later it opened unceremoniously. Wiegraf traipsed in casually, glancing around for a moment before taking a seat at the foot of the Queen's bed. Ovelia paid him no mind, instead staring out the window and soundly ignoring the man. Wiegraf visited her often, often with questions she was unable to answer.

"Are you comfortable here?" The Templar asked, a note of mockery in his tone. "I could try and find chambers more suitable for a Queen, if need be."

"I'm fine." Ovelia said sharply, shooting the man a look.

Wiegraf chuckled absently running his fingers over the bedspread as he stared at her. He'd come with more questions, that much was clear. The man never visited her simply to see how she was faring during her imprisonment.

"When you were sent to Orbonne Monastery, the Priest there was given proof of your birth, wasn't he?"

Ovelia said nothing, but she didn't need to. Wiegraf already knew the answer. He enjoyed asking things he already knew, just to show the Queen that he did not require her cooperation.

"I'm curious, did the stone leave with you when you departed?"

"I never held the stone, nor did I see it again once I arrived." Ovelia replied, glaring at him.

"As I expected. Why would a sheltered figurehead of a Princess be privy to the truth?"

"The truth?" Ovelia asked, laughing. "What truth? I know why you seek the Holy Stones, and I assure you the people of Ivalice will not buy into the lies you craft. Holding some pebble does not make you a hero."

"Would it mark me as the villain then, for the part I play?" Wiegraf asked, reaching into his cloak.

The Templar pulled a stone similar to the one that had been sent with Ovelia, rolling it lightly between his fingers. The Queen wondered just how many of the stones the Church had acquired, though she knew better than to bother asking. Delita had spoken with her about the Templars plot to collect to Holy Stones and declare themselves Zodiac Braves, but how many did they have? Was Virgo the last of the collection before they began their campaign of lies?

"No matter." Wiegraf said finally, smiling over at her. "I'm sure I know now the fate of the stone. It may be some time before we see each other again, Your Majesty, I do hope you enjoy your stay with us."

* * *

A cool breeze drifted over Agrias, raising the flesh on her bare arms. Winter's icy grasp was hesitant to fully release Ivalice, though the days were growing warm quickly. Standing in the knee length grass, the Holy Knight stared down at her sword, her thoughts inward. The blade had been scored by the blood of the demon she had slain, and echoed the state of the woman who wielded it. After all that she had seen, Agrias wondered if she'd ever be the same.

She sheathed the weapon as Zalbag approached, trampling the grass as he trudged up the hill. Agrias remained unsure what to make of the Arc Knight, and as such had avoided him until she was certain of his merit. The man was level headed and skilled, but there was darkness in him beneath the surface. Agrias, more than most, could sense this, as she was plagued with a similar curse. They'd both done unspeakable things in the name of loyalty.

"Your knights have prepared camp." Zalbag said as he moved beside her, his gaze locked on the last remnants of twilight. "We should reach Orbonne before midday tomorrow."

Agrias remained silent, crossing both arms over her stomach as she kept her thoughts inward. There were dozens of questions she wished to ask the man, but she had no idea where to even begin. It seemed Zalbag sensed this, for he did not leave, instead turning to give his attention to the Holy Knight.

"I find it hard to believe myself." He said, sighing. "Ramza spoke of the Lucavi, but even then I never truly put stock in them. It seemed too unreal. I suppose now it's hard to believe otherwise."

"That's why he left the Southern Sky, isn't it?"

"Indeed." Zalbag said, nodding. "And that's why we're not your enemy. This war is men dancing to their tune, and there's none save us who know it."

"When did Ramza find out about them?"

"He spoke little of it, but I was told he first fought one in Zaland."

"When he rescued the Tingel woman." Agrias said, before she turned to him sharply. "_First_ fought one? How many has he slain?"

"As far as I know, three, including our own older sibling."

"Dycedarg was… one of them?" She asked, shocked that the young knight had the capacity to kill his own kin.

"I fought the truth when he told me, but looking back it all fits. Our brother was manipulating Duke Larg for some time, purposefully weakening both armies for the gain of the Lucavi."

"Then... the Templars would have one in the Nanten as well."

"We believe so, but Ramza doubts it. Delita was working with the Church when the war began, but betrayed them when he discovered their plans to control Ivalice, and has since relied only on those he was sure he could trust, such as you."

"He knew nothing of these demons." Agrias said, shaking her head. "None of us did."

"You know _now_, and that is what matters."

"If the Lucavi truly are in control of the Church, then it's likely the Queen is already dead." Agrias said flatly, doing her best to hide the loss in her voice.

"Perhaps." Zalbag said after a long pause, turning to lock his gaze onto her. "Don't give up hope, Lady Oaks. If Ovelia is alive, we shall save her. I give you my word."

The Holy Knight stared at him for a long moment, biting down on her lip. She had seen the same look of conviction and certainty in a man once before, long before. Agrias didn't know if such a thing was a trait of all noble men, or simply one passed through Beoulve blood, but she decided then and there to put her trust and faith in Zalbag.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Short chapter, as I expect the next will be. Building up for the finale of Part Two and the rising action in Part Three. I wrote a lot more in my Author's Note, but decided to not keep it. Oh well.


	23. Detachment

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Detachment**

* * *

Alma seemed unaware she was being watched, sitting in the corner of the subterranean book storage, and Izlude was hesitant to announce his presence. The girl had curled both legs up next to her, her attention devoted to the book that sat in her lap, illuminated only by the candle burning on the table next to her. It wasn't often Izlude saw her so relaxed and content, and he took a moment to appreciate it.

The girl's golden hair spilled over her shoulders, the barrette that normally held it discarded next to the candle, and Izlude decided he preferred it this way. He could never bring himself to tell her this, however. Taking a deep breath, the young knight strode toward her, his footsteps bringing Alma's gaze to meet him. The smile she flashed him was pure and bright, as though gazing into the sun at its most glorious.

"Sit with me." Alma said lightly, sliding over in the plush chair.

Izlude nodded shyly, dropping to a seat next to the girl. Alma turned, tossing her legs over the armrest and leaning back against his chest. Such bold displays of affection made Izlude somewhat uncomfortable, as he'd never experienced such expression, even with his own sister. The young man glanced around the room nervously, aware of every subtle shift Alma's small form made against him.

"I used to sit in here for hours." She said, closing the book and holding it to her chest. "I could read every day for the rest of my life, and still not finish half of the books in here."

"Erm, yes," Izlude stammered, his eyes roaming over the volumes that lined the walls. "I suppose there are a lot."

Alma's laughter was light as she leaned back, tilting her head ever so slightly to look over at him. She, in opposition of Izlude, didn't seem at all uncomfortable with such physical closeness.

"Do I truly make you that nervous?"

"No, well," Izlude replied, quirking his lips. "Perhaps sometimes."

"Why?"

"I'm not used to… this, I suppose."

"Being near a girl that isn't your blood, you mean?"

"I guess so."

Alma grinned, tossing the thick tome onto the table and stretching. She loosened the kinks in her body slowly, sprawling out on her back across Izlude's lap, her head resting on the armrest. The young knight sighed, shaking his head. He was quite sure she was being even more affectionate simply for her own amusement.

A comfortable silence fell over the room, as Alma stared at the ceiling, absently twining strands of blonde hair between her fingers. Izlude wanted nothing more than to devote his gaze entirely to her, but instead found his eyes wandering around the room.

"Izlude, are you ever afraid?" Alma asked, frowning thoughtfully.

"Afraid of what?"

"The Lucavi and what we are trying to do."

"Not really." Izlude replied.

"I am, sometimes." Alma said, glancing at him. "I'm not afraid for myself though."

"Then what worries you?"

"I'm not like you or my brother, or even Mel. I wasn't raised a knight, and I honestly wonder sometimes what I'm even doing here."

"You don't have to be a warrior to fight for what you believe in."

"I suppose." Alma said, smiling. "I just worry that… something might happen to me. There aren't many who could match Ramza in combat, but if they managed to use me against him…"

"I won't let that happen." Izlude said forcefully, his gaze direct. "I'll die before I let someone hurt you."

Alma stared at him for a long moment, cocking her head to one side. She seemed to regard his serious tone, propping herself up in his lap. Izlude was still uncomfortable with their proximity to each other, but slowly he was growing more accustomed to her nature, and wondered if it was beginning to grow on him; which might have been why he kissed her.

He learned forward, gently pressing his lips against Alma's. The woman seemed uncertain for a moment, and almost pulled away from him, before returning the gesture. Izlude lost all sense of the passage of time, completely focused on the feel of her lips on his, as Alma slowly wrapped both arms around his neck, adjusting her position on his lap.

For all either of them knew it had been several days since their lips met, while the entire world seemed to disappear. Izlude slipped his hands down to Alma's side, holding her firmly as the girl smiled against his lips, each kiss chaste and gentle. They were so enraptured with their own company that it took a moment before either of them acknowledged the sound of a throat being cleared in the room.

Breaking contact, Izlude glanced quickly back, and instantly felt the blood rush to his face. Somehow, during what should have been a private display of affection, a crowd had formed. Zalbag, Agrias, Lavian, and Alicia stood just inside the underground library, gazing upon the scene with mixed reactions.

"By all means, don't stop on our account." Zalbag said, arms crossed over his chest.

"Oh, grow up." Alma replied, rolling lithely from Izlude's lap to her feet.

Izlude rose slowly, his gaze cast down to avoid the direct stare Zalbag leveled his way. Behind the eldest Beoulve, Lavian and Alicia were doing their best not to fall into a fit of laughter, as Agrias glared silently at them for the lack of tact.

"We're gone for little more than a week, and already you're consorting with the enemy?" Alma asked, absently dragging her thumb across her lips. "It's good to see you Agrias."

"As it is to see you, Lady Beoulve, though I wish it were under better circumstances."

"What's going on?" Izlude asked, finally fighting down the flush in his cheeks.

"Ovelia has been taken by the Templars." Zalbag said gravely. "We came here in search of her kidnapper, and found you instead."

"What?" Alma's light tone dropped instantly. "Have they made any demands?"

"No." Zalbag continued, shaking his head. "We made for Riovanes to gather information, but were met by a very… hostile host."

It only took Izlude a moment to catch onto the man's words, and he began to pace. Riovanes was under the control of Duke Barinten, and it seemed entirely possible that the Templars had sent emissaries there to bring him to their cause.

"The Lucavi?" Alma asked, absently fingering her hair.

"Yes." Agrias replied, sighing. "But the Queen wasn't there."

"No, she wouldn't be." Izlude supplied, frowning. "They would want to get her back to Murond as quickly as possible, where they could keep her safely locked away. If they have made no demands…"

"No," Alma said, shooting him a look. "She's alive. There's no way the High Priest could simply kill her. The entire country would be in uproar over such regicide."

"That was my thinking as well." Zalbag replied, nodding thoughtfully.

"Whatever they have planned for her, it's not good." Izlude said. "And we can hardly walk into Murond and take her back. Not even Ramza would try something so rash."

"What else _can_ we do?" Agrias asked, closing her eyes.

"There is one thing." Zalbag said, glancing over at her. "Take me to Delita."

* * *

Olan sat up, taking a shallow breath. His head was much clearer than it had been for days, and it seemed his fever had broken as well. Glancing around, the young man realized he was still in the belly of the airship, the cot he had been resting on pushed against one of the bulkheads. Relishing the feel of cold metal on his back as he propped himself against the wall, Olan looked down at his chest. Thick bandages wrapped most of his bare torso, with only a little blood soaked into the cloth.

He couldn't recall much since he'd been shot, mostly just random pieces seen through his fever, but he remembered seeing both Celia and Lede lying near him, though now the twins were absent. Had they recovered more quickly, or not at all? Wincing against the burn in his chest and shortness of breath, Olan swung his legs over. Vertigo swept over him before he could even attempt to stand, forcing the astronomer to close his eyes and fight it down.

He glanced over as Valmafra descended from the upper deck, tossing him a wry smile and dropping to a seat by his side. The woman silently checked his dressings, before taking a moment to look purposefully into his eyes.

"You seem coherent enough. How do you feel?"

"Not bad, considering I was _shot_."

"Well, you definitely look better, and you can form full sentences. For days you were just muttering nonsense. Oh, and you told me you loved me."

"I… what?" Olan stuttered, rubbing his eyes.

"Don't worry," Val replied, laughing. "You told Mustadio the same thing."

"Oddly that doesn't make me feel better."

"I promise I appreciated it more than he did." She said, smiling ever so slightly. "Can you stand?"

"If you tell the room to knock it off with the spinning, sure." Olan sighed, planting both hands on the side of his bed and shoving off.

Rising to his feet hadn't been as difficult as he had expected, and much of the nausea passed as his body recalled what it was like to stand erect. After several short breaths, Olan stretched, every pop of the joints feeling glorious. The man took two steps, letting his legs work out their kinks, before he heard the sound of gunfire again. Flinching, he turned a nervous expression to Val, who nodded to indicate it was safe.

"It's just Mustadio, topside. That was probably what woke you." She explained, taking his arm and guiding him to the stairs.

"Where are we?"

"In the hills outside of Warjilis. We had to get somewhere safe fast, and treat your wounds."

"Celia and Lede were wounded too, weren't they?"

"Yes, but not as badly as you." The woman said, rolling her eyes. "Though you'd think they'd been tortured, the way they're playing it."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see."

With Valmafra's help, Olan slowly climbed the stairs to the main deck of the airship, frustrated that he needed the assistance. The sun was high overhead, causing him to squint against the contrast from the gloom of the ships interior, and instantly Olan spotted the machinist. Mustadio stood at the bow, coaching Celia as she looked over his pistol. The woman braced herself on a makeshift crutch, bandages wrapped tightly around her left thigh, as Lede sat in a chair next to them, looking rather annoyed that her injuries prevented her from joining in.

"Look down the length of the barrel when you aim, there's a small sight at the very end."

Celia raised the gun and stumbled slightly, favoring her injured leg. Even as far as Olan was from her he could tell that she was acting, and knew from personal experience that such a wound would barely slow the woman down. He couldn't initially figure why the assassin would make her wounds out to be worse than they were, but had his answer only a moment later.

"Can you help me shoot it?" The woman asked, glancing coyly over her shoulder.

"Um… of course, sure." Mustadio replied, sidling up next to her.

Olan shook his head as the machinist cleared his throat, his hand closing gently around Celia's to help her fire the weapon. The woman leaned against him, her flirtatious ploy so painfully obvious that Olan was shocked the young engineer didn't notice it.

"Harlots." Valmafra said under her breath, sighing.

"Is that how they seduced you?" Olan asked, chuckling.

Val glared at him, slapping his chest lightly, which in turn elicited a pained groan. The woman was immediately contrite, apologizing and taking a moment to check his wound. Their small scene drew the attention of the others, and Celia looked none too happy when Mustadio left her side to jog over to Olan.

"You were lucky!" He called as he reached them, smiling. "If the bullet hadn't passed through as it had, it would have been hell to dig out."

"Yes, lucky, that's how I'd describe it." Olan replied, wincing. "What happened?"

"You mean after you were shot?" Mustadio asked, frowning. "Well it turned out Balk, the man who shot you, was actually one of the Lucavi. He got me and the girls too."

Valmafra pretended to ignore that she wasn't included as one of the girls, as Mustadio indicated the wrap on his arm.

"If it wasn't for Rattletrap, we might have all been killed. He took the creature _apart_."

"That's one less demon to worry about, at least."

"Indeed. Now that you're well, we can finally head back to Bervenia. I was getting tired of sitting here waiting."

"Wait, are we just drifting?" Olan asked, glancing around.

"Not quite. It was a problem when we first got here, because if I fully land this thing it will just tip over, but the solution was an anchor."

"You found an anchor heavy enough?"

Smirking, Mustadio gestured toward the edge of the deck with his head, and Olan stepped gingerly to the side of the ship. Rattletrap stood on the ground a short distance below them, thick rope connecting him to the airship. The steel golem looked around him as he acted as their anchor, massive metal arms swinging back and at its side.

"He does have his uses." Celia agreed, her casual stride turning into a slight limp as Mustadio glanced back at her.

"We should get moving." Olan said, leaning against the railing. "But first is there anything to eat? I'm _starving_."

* * *

Aside from the still smoldering homes and tertiary damage caused by the Templars, Gariland looked exactly as Ramza remembered it. Few citizens wandered the streets after sunset, but he wasn't concerned with being stopped and questioned. Shrine Knights stood watch on most every corner of the city streets, wary for any sign of trouble from the residents who lived within, and Ramza went to great strides to avoid their gaze.

It helped that, for all outward appearances, he was traveling with a Priestess of Glabados. While Ramza's name was known throughout the ranks of the Templarate, thankfully his face was not. Meliadoul, however, was quite recognizable, as she was the daughter of the most renowned among them.

"I feel ridiculous." The woman said, glancing at him as they walked.

"I'll be the first to admit the robes do you no justice," Ramza said, smiling at her. "But it was the best way I could think to avoid confrontation."

Mel glared at him, pulling the hood closer to keep her hair hidden, and tucked her hands into the sleeves of the white robes. It hadn't been difficult to find a disguise for her, but the woman seemed unable to carry herself with the practiced humility the clergy of Glabados possessed.

"How far is this Academy?"

"We're not far now." Ramza replied, stepping into an alley. "There's a cellar door hidden in the back that leads into the kitchens. I used to sneak out with Delita."

"You were a cadet here?" Meliadoul asked as the Gariland Military Academy came into view.

"Yes. It feels like another lifetime, but I spent several years here training to join the Hokuten Knights."

"There's something ironic about sneaking into the door you once crept from, a heretic among Templars and a former member of the army you should have fought against."

"I suppose so." Ramza agreed, smiling slightly as they slipped behind the large school for squires.

As he expected, the Templars hadn't posted a guard at the door. Few of the instructors even knew of the entrance. It was only by sheer luck that he and Delita had discovered it during duty in the kitchens, years before. Shuffling through the shrubbery concealing the cellar door, they quickly ducked inside, making their way down the short passage to the kitchens.

"You're sure he'll be here?" Mel asked, casting her voice low.

"There's nowhere more easily defended in Gariland, and it's central to the entire city. If your father isn't here, then he has already left the city."

"I'm glad I let you come along."

"Let me?" Ramza asked, chuckling. "Fine, if you must have the final say."

"I must." The woman shot back, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

The two infiltrators made their way quickly through the kitchens and into the Academy proper, much more cautious than they had been outside. No doubt the men stationed within the sprawling school knew exactly who was supposed to be within, and would be immediately suspicious of a lightly armed man and a cleric.

Ramza cut straight through the briefing room, vaguely recalling that when last he'd been in it had been the last time he'd been within the academy walls, and into the passage that contained the lecturer's classrooms. They'd made it only halfway when the sound of conversation brought Ramza to a halt outside of one of the rooms.

"It would be so much easier for you if you would simply cooperate. Your death would be swift and merciful, I assure you."

"Run along dog, and tell your master he may as well kill me. You won't draw one word from me."

"That's a pity. All the same, I think he'll agree it much more entertaining to see how much it takes for your body to break."

Footsteps sounded from within the room, and Ramza quickly ducked back, pulling Meliadoul with him into another of the classrooms. Standing just inside the door, the two of them watched as the Templar stepped into the corridor, glancing casually around before setting off.

"Rofel…" Mel said quietly, closing her eyes.

"You know him?"

"I suppose you could say that." The woman said, sighing. "Rofel was the man who taught me the Divine Knight sword arts. He's an unforgiving, powerful warrior, and my father's most trusted knight."

"I'd say that makes it likely Vormav is here as well. Come on."

Ramza walked back to the room that Rofel had left, frowning at the still open door. He motioned for Meliadoul to follow, slipping quietly into the room, and gasped as he saw who the man had been interrogating.

"Master Daravon?" Ramza asked, rushing to the veteran knight.

The senior lecturer had been bound cruely, thick rope tightly binding his wrists behind his back, his legs tied uncomfortably to the same rope, leaving him stretched like a drawn bow. He had sustained several injuries, most of them looking to have come after the battle for the city.

"Ramza, who is this man?" Mel asked as they knelt near him.

"He was one of my professors when I attended here." He said quickly, drawing his sword. "Master Daravon, can you hear me?"

It wasn't until he sliced through the man's bonds that Daravon reacted, the eye not swollen shut locking onto Ramza for a long moment. Recognition flooded into his gaze, and the aging man struggled to a seated position.

"Ramza Beoulve, is that really you?"

"Yes, sir. Can you stand?"

"I can do more than that, I assure you! Have you come to liberate the city?"

"No, I'm afraid not. It is only us two. How many others are being held here?"

"Only those that the dogs of the Church sought to torture. We must get them out of the city."

"In the back of the kitchens there's a cellar, you can lead them there. The soldiers outside aren't letting anyone leave Gariland, but I'm sure you know ways around that."

"Indeed I do, my boy. Are you coming along?"

"We have another agenda here, I'm sorry."

"Tread carefully, these are truly dishonorable men."

Daravon rose gingerly to his feet, with help from Meliadoul and Ramza, and shook both of their hands vigorously. He left quickly, leaving the two of them behind, and it wasn't until Ramza had reached the door that he realized Mel wasn't following.

"What is it?"

"They were torturing him." She said softly, her expression dark. "Never in all life have I heard of such heinous acts by a Templar. It goes against everything we stand for."

Ramza took a deep breath. He had already come to the conclusion that Meliadoul struggled with, but he couldn't bring himself to speak. Vormav's right hand would only do such a thing with his knowledge and consent, and Ramza suspected that the man they sought was no longer Mel's father.

"Let's go. He _will_ explain this."

The woman's face was cool and detached as she shrugged past Ramza, striding purposefully. Stealth was no longer a care of Meliadoul's as she calmly asked for directions, swiftly making her way toward the Academy Headmaster's Office, where Ramza believed Vormav to be.

Meliadoul didn't break her stride as she shoved the doors inward, bursting into the room, heedless of the half dozen Templars who stood within. Vormav stood at the other end of the room, staring absently out the window with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Father!" She cried, pulling the hood of the robes back.

Vormav glanced casually at her over his shoulder, sighing audibly before turning to face them. His face was cold and emotionless as he stared her down, his presence alone causing Meliadoul to shrink back slightly.

"The whore of a heretic in the garb of a Priestess? Amusing." He said calmly, cocking his head to the side.

"Wh… what?" Mel stammered, shocked.

"Tell me, Ramza, how long was it before you bed my daughter? Did she contain her mother's nature until she spirited away to Bethla, or did she spread her legs the night you met, in that filthy Bervenian inn?"

The Divine Knight found she was unable to speak for a moment, a pained expression twisting her face. The Templars surrounding them didn't react in the slightest to the exchange, staring off as though they had no emotions to utilize. Ramza slipped closer to the woman, his eyes slowly narrowing.

"You were _spying_ on me?"

"Of course." The man said, rolling his eyes. "After it became obvious you were too weak to make use of Sagittarius, I had to be sure you wouldn't disgrace the Tingel name further."

"Vormav!" Ramza shouted, stepping in front of Meliadoul and drawing his blade. "Or do you answer to another name now?"

"I am called Hashmal, the Bringer of Order, and you would do well to cower in your last moments."

Ramza scowled, leveling his sword at the Lucavi and glancing at the knights around them. As one the men turned, drawing steel and holding it aloft on an unspoken command. The Dark Knight knew he couldn't hope to defeat them all, as well as the demon controlling them, but he wasn't planning to try. If he could get to Vormav quickly, perhaps fast enough to cleave his head from his neck, he could buy Meliadoul time to escape. His death would not be in vain.

The young knight tensed as the Templars slowly advanced on him, and prepared to move, when a deep battle cry from the corridor halted him. Ramza turned quickly, shielding Meliadoul from the potential threat, as Daravon burst into the room, a massive blade clenched in both hands.

"Get out of here, you fool of a Beoulve!" He cried, charging forward to drag his sword into the closest Shrine Knight. "I'll hold these dogs here!"

Ramza backed away slowly, torn between fight and flight. He knew the odds were stacked against them already, and surely more Templars were on the way, but he couldn't leave the elder knight to fate.

"Go!" The man shouted again, cutting down another knight. "Balbanes won't forgive me if I let you die!"

Ramza nodded, practically dragging Meliadoul behind him as he ran from the room, the booming sound of Vormav's voice distorting as he cried for their death. The woman was almost catatonic, stumbling after him in a state of shock as they made their way through the Academy. Ramza moved as quickly as he could, reaching the kitchens as shouted alarms sounded throughout the Templar stronghold behind him.

He pushed Mel along, the open door of the cellar assuring him that Daravon had managed to evacuate the other captives before going back for the two of them. The sacrifice the man made pained Ramza, but he couldn't dwell on it now. He had to worry about escape before anything else.

Stumbling through the bushes, he nearly fell right into the drawn blade of a nearby Templar. Ramza shoved Mel to the side, slapping the sword aside with his hand and quickly running the man through. As the knight fell he cried out, and several others ran to his aid.

The sight of the battle about to erupt drew Meliadoul from her stupor, and the Divine Knight quickly shrugged her disguise off, drawing Save the Queen and moving to stand at Ramza's back. She didn't speak as she unleashed her sword skills at the Templars approaching from her side, and Ramza hadn't the time to console her as the knights charged him.

Darkness poured outward as he swung Shadow in a wide arc, sending a powerful wave toward the half dozen men. Pain seared within him in its wake, almost forcing Ramza to a knee, as the spell blasted full on into the Shrine Knights. Gafgarion's description of the sword had not been exaggerated, for those men who had not been instantly felled were flung to the cobbles hard enough to break bones.

Ramza righted himself, swiftly parrying an incoming cut and slamming the pommel of his blade into the knight's face before finishing him. He could hear Meliadoul's own struggle, her back brushing against his as the two knights stood their ground against what was fast becoming a flood of Templars.

There was no time to speak or plan their next move, as each man they cut to the quick was replaced instantly by another. The battle became almost mechanical, as Ramza moved from one knight to the next, doing his best to keep them at sword's length and protect Meliadoul's flank. In mere moments the stone beneath their feet was awash with blood, some of the crimson liquid dotting Ramza's face and splashing onto his arms with each stroke of the sword.

They fought valiantly, but Ramza knew deep down it was only a matter of moments before it would be all over. Not even Cid had a chance at fighting the entire regiment of Templars, and the slightest slip from either of them meant the end of both. Yet even so, neither would yield. If they were to die this night, it would not be without consequence.

Ramza caught movement from the corner of his eye, his gaze darting over as Rofel arrived, bulling aside several of the knights. The Beoulve reacted instinctively, shoving the man in front of him away with one hand and turning as Rofel raised his sword, launching an attack at Mel's exposed side.

Stepping into the path of the spell, Ramza took it in the chest, and felt his light armor shatter under the force of the sword skill. He staggered, pain blossoming within, and snarled at the man. The Dark Knight dragged his blade skyward, black energy rushing forward to tear up the very stone between them.

Several of the Templars leapt out of the way, and those caught within wished they had, as the dark magic reached Rofel. The Divine Knight was smirking as the spell struck home, instantly dispelling his smug expression. Rofel rocked backwards, blood billowing behind him, and fell to his knees. Ramza couldn't be sure if the attack had killed the man, as he was distracted by several orbs of light falling from above.

Stumbling back and clutching his chest, The Beoulve looked up in time to laugh aloud, unable to believe what he saw. Descending fast, Atro used his innate abilities as artillery, before landing lightly next to Ramza and buffeting a knight back with one wing. Ramza leapt onto the black chocobos back, yanking Meliadoul up as well.

Blasting one more Templar back, Atro took flight, wings pumping furiously as it gained altitude. By the time the men below had knocked an arrow, the chocobo was just out of range, the shafts reaching their apex and falling again. Ramza sheathed his sword, sagging forward.

His body ached from the exertion of combat and the toll of his own abilities, but his thoughts drifted instead to the woman who sat behind him. Meliadoul clutched his waist, her face buried in the back of his neck, and her racking sobs made the agony in Ramza's chest no more than a distraction.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I didn't know exactly what I was going to have Vormav say when they finally met him, but I gotta say I like what came to mind. He manages to call Meliadoul _and _her mother a tramp in one sentence, and then tells her she is a disgrace. Now that is some harsh parenting! I also figured with all the unsung heroes included in TLoI, I may as well include one that doesn't even see any game time. Now Daravon has _two_ battles under his belt. All in all, I think I enjoyed writing everything in this chapter, and I apologize it took so long. There's a legitimate reason for it, but I'll wait and reveal that until the Author's Note of the next chapter.

Hopefully the darker nature of the chapter is offset a bit by the Izzy/Alma in the beginning, and the mild humor aboard the airship. Expect it to get a bit more dark in the near future, however. One more to go until the end of Part 2, any guess as to what I'll end with? I'm curious if anyone can get a close guess.


	24. Awakening

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Awakening**

* * *

The journey to Orbonne had been a blur, as Meliadoul spent the entire night with her cheek pressed to Ramza's back, her thoughts consuming her. She felt oddly cold and detached, unable to keep her attention focused on one thing for longer than a moment. The cool air on her face felt flat, and even though she knew Ramza was in no condition to be travelling at such a pace, she couldn't bring herself to care.

She hated herself for her lack of empathy for the man's condition, which was compounded by the fact that he seemed to be in such a rush only for her. The Dark Knight kept her hand clasped in his throughout the night, and thankfully had spoken few words as the chocobo carried them over Ivalice.

Ramza was the one person who could relate to her feelings, but hadn't mentioned their shared connection. He'd lost his father to this madness, and had killed his own brother without remorse, and as she considered this Meliadoul wondered how he did it. The man pressed on without a backward glance, his gaze constantly fixed on a lighter horizon. She envied his strength.

By the time the sun was emerging, obscured by storm clouds, the monastery loomed in the distance. Mel's cheeks had dried long before, her capacity for tears lost for the time being. Deep down the woman had known her father was at the heart of the darkness that was creeping over Ivalice, but she could never admit it to herself.

Even now, after all that she had witnessed, she still saw the man she had aspired to please; Confident, strong, and just. Vormav had never been the most loving father, but his affection was plain if you knew what to look for. He had shown it in his drive, which he had tried to pass on to his children early. The Templar had pushed Meliadoul and Izlude to their limits, and then a little farther, to temper them to the world.

Atro settled down into the tall grass, his feathers ruffled, as Mel fought back more tears. She had to force herself not think of the father she had lost, and slowly clambered off of the mount. Ramza followed suit, paying little heed to the injuries he'd sustained as he took her hand. Meliadoul wished she could tell him how much such a simple gesture meant to her, but the words refused to come.

The two of them treaded slowly toward Orbonne as a few drops of rain fell from the heavens, mirroring Meliadoul's mood. She barely felt the rain, or the chill that came with it, and distantly wondered if she'd ever feel anything as strongly as she had only days ago. It wasn't until Ramza came to an abrupt halt in front of the monastery, and Mel looked up, that she discovered she still had plenty of emotion within her.

The door to the monastery was a splintered mess, swinging upon a single hinge in the light wind. For a moment Meliadoul simply stared at it, dumbfounded, before she drove forward, Ramza running after her. Fear gripped her chest as she cleared the entryway, knocking the remnants of the door aside.

Inside, a small war had been fought. Shattered chairs and broken tables were scattered around the room, the floor littered with books that had been knocked from overturned cases. She saw these things only in her periphery, as Mel's gaze was drawn to the trail of blood that led her like breadcrumbs to her greatest fear.

Izlude lay against a fallen bookshelf, absently reaching for the sword that rested just out of his grasp. There was so much blood that it was a shock he had been able to drag himself so far. Ramza and Meliadoul sprinted to him, dropping to the young knight's side as he gasped for breath. The Divine Knight discovered she was certainly capable of more tears, as they leapt instantly to blur her vision.

"Izlude, what happened?" Ramza asked feverishly, applying pressure to the terrible wound in his friend's stomach.

"R… Ramza?" He replied, blinking rapidly. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I couldn't protect her…"

Motion nearby startled Mel, and she turned to see Simon stagger out from an adjacent room. The priest had fared better than Izlude, though it was clear whoever did this had not been kind to the elderly man. Slowly, Simon slipped over to join them, dropping to his knees.

"They took Alma?" Ramza asked, his gaze faraway.

"Yes. He knew you, said that you were old acquaintances."

"Don't speak." Meliadoul said, stroking her brother's hair as he coughed.

"Wiegraf. His name was… Wiegraf. He'll be waiting for you where you first fought his sister. He claimed you'd know where he meant. Save her..."

"I will, I promise. I'll bring her back."

Izlude visibly relaxed, his head thumping against the wooden shelf, as he turned his attention to Meliadoul. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see him in such condition, but knew she couldn't wish this away.

"Mel…" He said, his voice a whisper in the still room. "He's gone, isn't he? Father?"

The woman nodded shallowly, gently kissing Izlude's hand.

"You know," Izlude said, laughing lightly. "I never wanted to be like him. You were the one I looked up to most; the one I aspired to be."

Izlude cupped his sister's cheek gently in the palm of his hand, leaving a smear of blood upon her face, and smiled. It was that smile he left as a gift, as his gaze slowly became more distant, his expression devoid of the pain that had plagued it moments before.

In one day Meliadoul had lost almost everything she lived for. Her father had fallen to darkness, and her brother to the ambition of those monsters. Distantly Mel thought of Alma, who had grown to be almost a sister in her own right, and she felt despair grip her heart.

It was then, as she pulled Izlude into her lap, that Meliadoul felt something break inside of her.

* * *

Ramza stood slowly, doing his best to keep his own tears from falling. He couldn't let himself give voice to his grief, for Meliadoul's sake. She needed him composed and strong, more than anyone ever would. If keeping his own emotions locked away would help to comfort her, he would bear the pain gladly.

He reached down as Mel buried her face in her brother's neck, her choked sobs echoing through the large room, and gently touched her shoulder. He was unprepared for the woman's reaction as she rounded on him, knocking his hand away with a vicious scowl.

"You promised me! You gave me your word you would protect him!" She cried, and for a moment Ramza was afraid she might lunge at him.

"Mel… I'm sorry…"

"No you're not! This is _your_ fault! He never should have gotten involved in your personal fight for glory and honor! You weren't content with destroying your own family, is that it? You had to take mine away as well?"

Ramza staggered as if visibly struck, his mouth falling slightly open. He knew she was irrational and overwhelmed with grief, but her words cut to the bone, and he had no idea what to say to her.

"Get the hell out of here, now!" She shouted, shoving Ramza back as hard as she could manage from her position.

Stepping back, the Dark Knight stared down at her, frustrated and concerned. He wanted nothing more than to go to her and hold her, and keep her in his arms until she broke out of this rage. He loved Izlude as a brother, she knew this, yet she had placed the guilt for his death entirely on his shoulders.

"Come," Simon said, taking Ramza's arm gently. "Give her time to grieve, my child."

Ramza allowed the priest to guide him through the shattered door, out into the light rain, where he collapsed in a heap. Burying his face in his hands, he was silently tortured by the sound of Meliadoul weeping, and forced himself to remain in control of his own emotions.

"Ramza," Simon said quietly, standing in the entrance. "The man also took Virgo and the scriptures."

Nodding absently, Ramza let his hands fall to the damp stone. He didn't care if Wiegraf had taken the entire monastery, and would happily trade the entire world to have Alma and Izlude back. He glanced casually over at Simon, a blank expression on his face, as the man continued.

"I managed to translate some, and I'm not sure what to make of it. There's some strange incantation that, if my theory is correct, is used to open a gateway. To where, I cannot say."

Ramza only half listened as the priest continued, his attention torn as Meliadoul began to mumble incoherently within the monastery. The knight felt helpless, with no way of consoling Mel when she needed him most, and it was eating away at him.

"There's mention of the Holy Stones often as well, but I didn't get any farther than that."

"I know, just do it!" Meliadoul shouted suddenly, making Ramza jump.

He glanced toward the doorway, confused, slowly clambering to his feet. Something seemed to be wrong, and he couldn't bear to sit outside and listen to the woman in such agony. He'd taken only a step before she spoke again, the words urging him into motion.

"I give you my word. Bring him back." The woman said desperately.

"Mel, no!"

Ramza burst back into the monastery, panic sweeping over him. He knew with whom the woman spoke, but couldn't believe his ears. The Divine Knight was standing next to Izlude, Holy Stone tight in her grasp, and Ramza did not hesitate to charge toward her.

Before he could even reach her, the man was struck by a shockwave, the force picking him up and throwing him bodily to the floor. He rolled across the smooth stone, quickly scrambling back to his feet to sprint toward her again. A bubble of arcane energy had surrounded the woman, halting Ramza in his tracks as soon as he slammed into it.

Meliadoul glanced at him, tears fresh in her eyes, and smiled softly, her brown eyes achingly tender. The woman reached out, placing her palm against the sphere opposite Ramza's own hand.

"I'm sorry, my love." She whispered, before clutching the stone to her chest.

Tendrils of pale blue light streamed from the stone, quickly surrounding Meliadoul and obscuring her completely from view. Ramza had seen such magic enough already, and pounded his fists against the cocoon incasing her as hard as he could.

To his shock, this transformation was considerably different than any he had previously witnessed. The other Lucavi, inhuman and obviously demonic, had defiled their flesh to match their nature, but it seemed something different was happening here.

Meliadoul's body was lifted into the air, as she changed rapidly. Black, unfathomable armor began to form over her skin, seeming to grow to become her flesh rather than covering it, several sharp spikes and ridges protruding outward. From her back sprang two impressive black wings, several feathers drifting lazily away as she stretched them out.

The change in her face was fast, what was once a pure human guise shifting into something different, but strangely pleasing to the eye. It maintained the same structure as any other face, though there something menacing and intriguing within the contours and structure. Meliadoul's brown hair darkened, turning into a shade as black as night, and billowing out behind her.

All the while the armor continued to wrap her body, the carapace sensuously molding itself to her frame, leaving a bare stomach and more than modest cleavage in its wake. It gave the creature with an elegant, deadly appearance, beautiful in its own dark right.

Had Ramza not been so horrified at what had just happened, he would found himself in awe. Essentially the demon's form was that of a woman, though there was something that separated it from any mortal form.

As the Lucavi settled back to the floor, the sphere that surrounded it exploded outward, knocking Ramza to the ground. The Dark Knight sat up, words escaping him, as the awakened demon examined its body.

"It has been far too long." She said in a voice that was a stark contrast to the Lucavi Ramza had come across previously, sultry and feminine.

The demon caught Ramza from the corner of its eye, turning to gaze impassively at him for a long moment before frowning. Glancing down, the female Lucavi examined its armored hands, each ending in vicious black claws formed from the armor it had created.

"Are these still Morrigan's memories I am privy to, or remnants of this body?" She asked no one in particular, her expression curious.

"What are you?" Ramza asked, slowly rising and grasping the hilt of his sword.

"My name is Shemhazai."

"Where is Meliadoul?"

"You must mean the woman who called me forth." The demon said, still admiring its new form. "I suspect she remains, as I have a strange recollection of you."

"Good," Ramza said coldly, drawing his sword. "Then leave this world, and release her from your grasp."

The demon laughed jovially, fixing him with an amused look. Taking several slow steps toward Ramza, Shemhazai stopped, reaching out to drag one finger gently across his chest.

"I'm sorry mortal, but a pact has been made, and there is naught you can do to break it. I gave her brother life, in exchange for her soul."

Ramza's gaze shot to Izlude, who still lie propped against the bookshelf near them. His eyes had closed, and blood no longer seeped from his stomach. It took Ramza a moment to notice his friend's shallow breaths.

"I'm afraid I have no time for foolhardy knights, so if you'd be so kind as to die quickly."

Shemhazai raised her hand, smiling devilishly, and dark blue energy began to form. Ramza stepped back, trapped. He couldn't bring himself to try and kill the creature, as doing so would be the demise of Meliadoul as well, but he had nowhere to run. Before he could even resign himself to fate, the Lucavi frowned thoughtfully, dispelling the energy and staring at its hand.

"Your woman holds more sway than I'd expected. It seems you will be enjoying your pathetic, hopeless existence for a little while longer."

Darkness swept over the demons form, consuming it rapidly, until a moment later Shemhazai vanished, leaving Ramza in a state of horror and grief. The Dark Knight stood stock still for a long moment, before sheathing his sword and turning. He felt his own particular blackness swell from within, growing and spreading as the Beoulve allowed his anger and pain free reign through his mind.

Ramza felt his vision begin to tunnel, as those dark emotions threatened to overcome him. The agony of the loss of both Alma and Meliadoul rose up to be tempered by his desire for vengeance, and Ramza felt his fists slowly clenching in cold rage.

"Simon, can you look after him?" Ramza said quietly, his lips a thin line.

"Of course, but what of you?"

"I'm going after my sister."

* * *

**Author's Note:** So ends Part Two: The Great Divide. Thoughts? Not a lot in terms of length, but I tried very hard to make it more emotionally gripping than any previous chapters, given what's actually happening. I obviously took some liberties with Shemhazai, as I wasn't keen on the crossbows for hands concept. The Morrigan bit, as well as Shemhazai's appearance, was planned out long before I realized it would be that particular Lucavi, and of course Morrigan will be explained through Part Three. With all that Meliadoul went through in such a short time, it opened up the holes in her internal armor necessary for Lucavi manifestation.

I mentioned last chapter that something had slowed my writing down, and I'll speak on that now I suppose. It turns out I'm going to be a father. It's terrifying and exciting, and will be probably the most difficult thing I've ever had to do, but I look forward to it. It shouldn't mess with my writing much, but obviously the new responsibilities leading up to about 8 months from now take precedence.

**Caellach Tiger Eye:** You ended up pretty close, actually! I never had thought of Ovelia being possessed by Shemhazai, and honestly that would have been a crazy plot twist, up to par with it being Mel who allows Shem to manifest. Otherwise you pretty well nailed it, so good theory crafting! There's plenty more to happen in Part Three. Delita was mostly left out of Part Two as it focused more on Ramza's group, but he plays a large role in upcoming chapters. Much of this story mirrors aspects of the original plot, either by choice and irony (Izlude dying in Orbonne at Wiegraf's hand, instead of being his ally.) or by necessity. (Alma being kidnapped kind of has to happen, to continue with the actual plot.) I'm also one who thinks that fate tries to assert the order that was broken, in this case Izlude being killed. Of course, the choices made continue to alter the 'timeline' of the world, changing things more and more. It's definitely fun to play with. As for length, Part One is going to be the longest of the three, as it contains the build up that eventually swings over to the plot. Three may be shorter than two, but will have a much larger chapter length when I reach certain chapters.


	25. Reunion

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Reunion**

* * *

The last time Ramza had stood upon the stone ramp leading up to the Brigand's Den that had been a Death Corps hideout, he'd been a completely different man. Looking back, it seemed as though his time at Delita's side, a loyal and dedicated cadet of the Beoulve house, had been someone else's life. No longer was Ramza that young squire, and no longer did he possess the innocence that he had then.

The storm that had formed over Orbonne had followed in Ramza's wake, darkening the sky behind him as he dropped the reins of his chocobo, striding calmly toward the dilapidated fort. The thunderclouds seemed drawn to his internal struggle, giving voice to his grief and anger with each distant clap of thunder. It hardly did the hate in the Beoulve's heart justice.

Cool wind whipped through the fort, whining audibly against a structure that had hardly changed in the time since Ramza had last laid eyes upon it. It was barely habitable, nothing more than a rat's nest for brigands and thieves. Ramza noticed this in the back of his mind, and cared not for the architecture in front of him. No amount of stone and mortar was going to slow him down, nor would the man who waited within.

Ramza had made it only a few steps up the slope when his adversary appeared, stepping casually out of the gaping hole that once held a heavy door. Wiegraf looked the same as in the Dark Knight's memory, though now he wore the telltale uniform of the Templars. Ramza gazed at him coldly, his face giving nothing away.

"It's been some time, Ramza Beoulve." Wiegraf said. "It's ironic, isn't it, how fickle a mistress fate can be? As you took my sister from this world, I was so blessed to return the favor."

Ramza felt his blood run cold, his eyes narrowing at the Templar. It had to be a bluff, an attempt to get some satisfaction from his reaction. Ramza said nothing, instead opting to simply stare across the space between them, his stance calm and collected despite the turmoil inside of him.

"Aren't you curious what became of her, or do I remain the only man left in this forsaken kingdom with love for their kin?"

"Is Alma here?" Ramza said finally, his voice cold and hard.

"No," Wiegraf said, his light tone slipping. "She has been taken to Murond. It is just you and I here, young Beoulve. You didn't honestly think I would bring that slip of girl along, did you?"

"We have nothing left to speak of then, I'm afraid."

Ramza stalked up the slope toward him, not bothering to draw his blade. His gaze remained locked upon Wiegraf, as the Templar seemed to visibly tense. He'd likely been expecting Ramza to beg for his sister's life, and to have the pleasure of seeing him grovel. The bastard would have no such satisfaction.

"I've learned much since last you faced me, Ramza." He said, drawing his sword smoothly. "Do not underestimate me."

The Dark Knight had halved the distance between them before Wiegraf raised his sword above his head, mild concern touching his features. He seemed to suspect some deception, for why would any man walk straight toward drawn steel? Ramza distantly wondered if he could consider himself a man any longer.

"If you wish to die without incident, allow me to oblige you!" Wiegraf cried, slashing downward.

The Holy magic descended the slope, its brilliant light cracking the stone beneath as it crossed the distance between the two men in an instant. Ramza did not break stride, and walked straight into the spell as it reached him. Pain shot through his body as he was illuminated, lasting but a moment before the holy explosion passed over him.

Not breaking stride, Ramza continued unabated, as a look of shock and anger touched Wiegraf's features. He couldn't have expected Ramza would simply waltz through his attack as though it were a mild annoyance, and the Dark Knight's smoking armor was a testament to the very real damage it had wrought. Yet Ramza ignored the pain and heat, and drove onward.

Wiegraf brought his sword back, leveling a thrust as toward the younger man's midsection as Ramza's steady stride brought him close. The Dark Knight's hand snapped up like quicksilver, deflecting the blade to the side with his gauntlet, and stepping inside Wiegraf's guard.

He grabbed the Templar's collar roughly, pain and anger giving him the strength of a behemoth, and quite easily swung the larger man around. Dark tendrils danced, barely visible, around Ramza's arm as he turned, hurling Wiegraf behind him down the ramp. The Templar was flung, hanging in the air for a moment before crashing down to the stone, rolling away.

As Wiegraf quickly scambled to his feet Ramza stalked toward him, murder in his eyes.

* * *

Nanten soldiers surrounded Zalbag as he was escorted through the halls of Zeltennia, Agrias and her knights leading the way. He'd been stripped of weapons and armor upon entering the castle, yet the men around him kept their hands on the hilts of their swords. Given his reputation and affiliation, he could not begrudge them their caution.

Agrias glanced back at him often, her expression mixed between concern and worry. She knew too well the role Zalbag had played in the life of the man they now sought, and her thoughts no doubt mirrored his own. What would Delita do upon seeing him again after all this time, with the role he had played in Teta's demise?

Zalbag had often pondered that day, torn between where he had placed his loyalty. He had been forced to make a choice between the Beoulve name and the life of one who may as well have been blood. Common or not, Delita and Teta had been family, in their own way. They'd been a part of the Beoulve household almost as long as Alma had, and had done it more justice than he or Dycedarg had.

His only regret in life had been that one fateful day. It was wrong to sacrifice Teta, even if it meant the obliteration of the Death Corps, but Zalbag had made the decision with little hesitation. It haunted him how blind he had been to what really mattered.

Agrias shoved the doors ahead of her open, stepping aside to allow Zalbag to enter first. The Nanten escort remained outside, taking up a position near the door in case their presence was required in the room. The eldest living Beoulve found Delita waiting, his expression unreadable, as Agrias and her knights followed him in.

"Of all the people to request an audience with me, you were one of the last I would have expected."

"These are dire circumstances in desperate times, Delita."

The younger man set his jaw, hesitating as though he had something more to say, before he turned his attention to Agrias instead.

"I expect you have a sound reason for bringing this relic of a fallen sky to my castle?"

Agrias frowned, glancing nervously at Zalbag for a moment, then back at Delita. Lavian and Alicia shifted uncomfortably behind her.

"Ovelia… has been captured by the Templars."

"Agrias," Delita replied, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I would appreciate it if you wouldn't waste my time informing me of that which I am already aware."

"You knew she'd been kidnapped?"

"Are you honestly that stupid? I knew what happened before you did. It seemed it was a mistake to let you remain by her side after all."

Agrias reacted as if she'd been physically struck, stepping back and dropping her gaze to the floor. Zalbag felt an uncharacteristic flare of anger at Delita's words, and stepped forward to draw his attention.

"It's not too late to save her, Delita. If you assemble your troops now we-"

"Do not speak to me of your desire to save anyone." Delita snapped, glaring icily at him. "You have not the right."

"There's time for us to speak of Ziekden later!" Zalbag shot back, snarling. "_After_ we have rescued Ovelia."

"It's too late for that. By the time I have assembled enough men to mount an assault on Murond, Her Majesty will have been executed."

"You stubborn fool!" Zalbag shouted, causing the pair of knights in the room with them to tense up.

"How dare you!" Delita cried back, his emotions getting the better of him. "You should be bowing at my feet!"

Neither man expected Agrias to intervene. The woman took two steps forward, closing on Delita, and the sound of her palm striking his face echoed off the stone walls. He staggered; clutching his cheek as Agrias loomed over him.

"Who do you think you are?" She began, balling her fists. "You owe this entire kingdom to Ovelia, and to me, or are you so deluded to believe you would be where you are without us? You're not King, Delita, not yet."

The man stared at her in shock, as silence fell upon the room. It took Delita several moments to regain his composure, and he took a deep breath, staring directly into Agrias' eyes.

"Leave us." He said to the guards, who reluctantly removed themselves from the room.

"This is bigger than you and I." Zalbag said, his voice calm and controlled.

"What can I do?" Delita said, sighing. "The Southern Sky is spread across the land. There's no way I can gather enough men in time."

"We leave now, the five of us." Zalbag offered, to the shocked expressions of all present.

"Are you mad?" Delita began, laughing. "We're going to invade the heart of the Glabados Church with a paltry half-dozen?"

"Agrias, think on this for a moment, and you'll come to agree." He replied, glancing at the woman.

She pondered his words, frowning in contemplation, before realization seemed to dawn in her eyes. Agrias looked at him questioningly, daring to believe it could be possible.

"Most of the Templars have no idea what's really going on." She supplied, staring into Zalbag's eyes. "So the Lucavi are keeping their agenda very close. It's likely only they will be inside of Murond, with what few loyal servants they have converted."

"Precisely." Zalbag agreed, nodding.

"Lucavi?" Delita asked, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"As I said, this is bigger than you and I."

* * *

This was not the talented yet untrained boy that Wiegraf had faced before. Ramza fought like a man possessed, no finesse or elegance to his movements. He hacked at Wiegraf without restraint, forcing the Templar onto the defensive as he struggled to maintain his footing. The older man's face twisted with intense concentration, his full focus spent on keeping the Beoulve from slipping inside his guard.

Instead of tiring, Ramza seemed to gather more force and vigor with every stroke of his blade, relentlessly advancing without giving the Templar a moment's pause. It was though each slash stripped away more of the youth's mercy and restraint, granting him the strength and speed of the devil. Wiegraf couldn't fathom where this ferocity and skill had come from, and realized quickly that he was sorely outmatched. He gave up ground grudgingly, trying to no avail to clear the young man's attacks enough to bring his swordskills to bear.

He circled slowly, deflecting a hasty cut with the side of blade, back-peddling furiously as Ramza pressed the attack. Their swords met over and over with resonating crashes that covered the silence between the approaching thunder, each chime of steel on steel sharp and loud.

Wiegraf backed up the ramp toward the fort, rotating sideways to avoid the younger knight's perfect thrust. Even with the advantage of height, reach, and the slightly higher ground, Wiegraf couldn't seem to get any distance from the man. Ramza continuously charged into him, his intent obviously to kill, and Wiegraf was running out of options.

Desperation became his fuel, as the Holy Knight tried to capitalize in the slightly lapse in Ramza's attack. Despite his cold anger and all out assault, Ramza scarcely left himself open, and his next strike followed so quickly it was almost impossible to get a counter through his guard.

A horizontal slash, narrowly avoided, instantly turned into an outside thrust before Wiegraf could do more than move his own weapon to parry the blow. Ramza moved against him, slamming his shoulder hard into Wiegraf's chest, and followed up by bashing his forehead into the man's mouth, before attempting to drag the blade of that black sword across his foe's throat.

Wiegraf intentionally fell to his back, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth, and kicked out. He caught the Beoulve behind his knees, forcing Ramza to tumble to the stone slope, and began to scramble closer to the fort. Turning, Wiegraf stumbled up, grinning in triumph. He brought his sword up, preparing to unleash another holy skill.

Before his weapon could reach the apex of its ascent, an ephemeral blade of dark energy leapt forth beneath him. Having rolled to his feet and with but a flick of his wrist, Ramza had called upon sword arts of his own, catching Wiegraf off guard. The transparent blade tore through him, and he noted absently that he'd seen such draining magic before. Ramza had trained as a Dark Knight.

Wiegraf staggered, quickly retreating through the doorway behind him just inside the damaged fort, to gather his wits. He had underestimated how much Ramza's skill had grown since their last engagement, and more than that had misjudged his character. The Ramza he had fought before showed restraint, carefully tempering his swordplay to avoid unnecessary death. Cold fury and vengeance guided the man's blade now, giving him a strength and focus that Wiegraf had not been prepared for. Pressing his back to the wall inside the fort, the Templar fought down the burning pain in his chest, his breath catching.

"Wiegraf!" Ramza cried from outside, his voice full of venom.

It wasn't likely, even in his current emotional state, that Ramza would simply charge in after him. He was not fool enough to walk into a potential ambush, which would buy Wiegraf the time he needed to compose himself and figure out a way to beat him. He'd barely gotten his breathing under control when the Dark Knight did what he could have never anticipated.

Directly to Wiegraf's right, a mere hands length from his shoulder, an entire section of the wall was blown away. Dark energy swirled around the gaping, ragged hole, and Wiegraf realized to his shock that Ramza was unleashing his formidable skills against the very fort itself.

Not a moment passed before another wave of focused arcane might tore into the wall, shredding through the mortar as though he was simply throwing a stone through parchment. Wiegraf stumbled away from the wall as Ramza laid into the outside of the fort with blast after blast, further adding to the Templar's unease. Each attack was agony to the young knight, as was the price of a Dark Knight's ability, but Ramza did not let up for a moment.

Jogging away from the quickly disintegrating stone, Wiegraf took the stairs to the outer wall of the fort two at a time. If Ramza kept up as he did, he very well may bring the entire structure down upon the Templar's head. His reserves seemed unlimited, his rage fueling his assault, and he'd walked right through Wiegraf's potent sword art without breaking his stride. The former Death Knight had to find a way to get past his guard, before Ramza finally did what he came to do.

"Come out, Wiegraf!" Ramza shouted. "I'll end it quickly, I promise, which is more mercy than I showed Miluda!"

The Templar felt his grip tighten on the hilt of his sword, his own anger and thirst for vengeance overtaking the rational plans he tried to make. The bastard Beoulve dared to taunt him and had the audacity to even speak his sister's name? He knew the boy was likely baiting him, but he no longer cared. He would not allow this injustice to stand. Climbing the stairs, Wiegraf sprinted toward the low rampart atop the wall, raising his sword.

* * *

Alma knew it was useless to struggle against her bonds, but she refused to do otherwise. The chains clinked noisily as she pulled them taut, planting her feet against the stone wall and putting the pain in her wrists out of her mind. She'd been shackled, unable to do anything except stand or hang, in the small chambers. Aside from the Templars that checked on her hourly, she had seen no one since her arrival in Murond.

None had questioned or threatened her, and that concerned her more than any torture they used against her. It was as though they didn't need her at all, and she was only the bait for their true objective. Closing her eyes, Alma bit down on her lip, pulling even harder against her chains.

"Ramza…"

With an audible click, the door to her room was unlocked, and Alma fell back against the wall. The door swung inward, and it only took the girl a moment to recognize just who the man entering was. The resemblance between father and son was obvious to anyone who had known Izlude, especially as well as Alma had.

The very thought of Izlude wrenched at her heart. She'd seen him fall, crumpled and bleeding as he tried to defend her, and couldn't keep the image from her mind. She held to hope that Simon was able to save him. The thought of any other outcome threatened to overcome her.

Staring into the eyes of her love's father, as Vormav Tingel stood just inside the doorway, wouldn't allow Alma to forget Izlude's face. The commander of the Templars simply looked her over for a moment, a small smile touching his lips. Alma was disgusted by his searching gaze, knowing without the man uttering a word what lie beneath his skin.

"Let me go." She ordered, glaring icily into his eyes. "I'm of no use to you."

"On the contrary, dear girl, you mean _everything_ to me."

The voice outside of her room was familiar and yet alien, the source stepping into the room as Vormav moved to the side. Alma felt her chest tighten, as though a hand had clenched her heart in a vice.

"No…"

The woman who stood before her was Meliadoul, of that there could be no doubt, but something was inherently wrong with her. The Divine Knight's hair had darkened, and the warmth that once filled her gaze had been replaced with an analytic chill. She had discarded her familiar armor for attire that was more than immodest, flaunting her natural features and displaying more skin than most dancers in a seedy tavern would dare. What little she wore was a dark shade of blue, plate and cloth that left her stomach and legs bare, accenting the curvature of her form in a scandalous manner.

"You're sure she's the one we're looking for?" Meliadoul asked, her gaze leaping to the man that was once her father.

"Yes," Vormav replied, taking a knee and bowing his head to her. "There is no doubt."

"Thank you, Hashmal, that will be all."

The patriarch of the Tingel family hesitated, seething beneath the woman's condescension, before he finally rose and left the room. Meliadoul walked casually to Alma, her gaze travelling quickly over the younger woman's face. She finally came to a halt only a breath away, one hand slowly rising to delicately stroke Alma's cheek.

"Why, Mel? Why would you do this?"

"Love is a powerful thing." The woman replied, cocking her head to the side. "For love, one would gladly sacrifice their life for another. That fact is as true now as it was during my last visit to your world."

Alma frowned thoughtfully, turning her face away from the demon's touch. It only took a moment for her to realize the gravity of those words, though they gave her little comfort. Meliadoul had made a deal with the devil, and the only way she would ever have agreed to such a thing was to save her brother's life. Alma was torn between relief and despair.

"What do you want with me?" She asked, her tone even despite her internal turmoil.

"You are a vessel." The Lucavi said, absently rubbing Alma's hair between her fingers. "The only one that truly matters. My dear, sweet girl, you're one of a kind…"

* * *

_"Ramza!"_

The Dark Knight's gaze shot up as Wiegraf launched himself from the top of the fort, sword held high. Ramza's words had achieved the desired effect, goading the Templar right into his hands. Smiling in grim satisfaction, Ramza changed his stance, raising Shadow to meet him.

Their blades met with a tremendous crash, dark and holy magic blasting outward in opposition around them, tearing up some of the very stone beneath their feet. Ramza was forced to a knee, unprepared for such desperation and the strength it granted his foe. Wiegraf hammered down on his sword mercilessly, over and over, each blow forcing Ramza's weapon closer to his head.

Wiegraf had succumbed to the same primal fury that Ramza had maintained since their duel had started, relying on the pain of his own loss to empower him. Ramza snarled, bracing his sword with his other hand, timing each of the quick strikes, until the perfect moment.

The Dark Knight shoved his blade upward, forcing Wiegraf to stumble slightly, and rose to his feet. He caught the Templar's next attack on his handguard, as the two men fought for dominance. Ramza could feel his control slipping, anger and vengeance sweeping over his mind.

With a cry of defiance, he swept Wiegraf's sword to the side, quickly snapping his free hand up to backhand the man across the face. Wiegraf faltered slightly, as Ramza drove into him. A swift series of strokes kept the man off balance, as dark wisps of arcane energy swirled around Ramza's sword and arms.

The Beoulve fell back slightly, his rage consuming him as he raised his sword. That unfathomable blackness swept over his sword as he dragged it down, bursting forth to plow into the Templar at close range. Wiegraf was lifted bodily from the ground, flying back toward the fort as Ramza rotated his grip. He swung Shadow in a horizontal arc, a second wave of dark power catching Wiegraf before he landed.

Ramza rocked back, the toll of his abilities tunneling his vision, as Wiegraf was hurled against the wall of the fort. The man crumpled to the ground, his sword clattering away. Ramza took a moment to recover, clinging to consciousness, before he strode slowly toward the fallen knight.

The man's armor had been decimated, the dark swordskills having mostly stripped the mail and plate from his chest and arms. What remained was tarnished and smoking, thought it had proven enough to keep Wiegraf alive. Blood dripped from his scalp, and the damage Ramza could see to his body brought a sense of satisfaction he would have never thought he could feel.

"Gafgarion was right," He said quietly to himself. "You do begin to enjoy the pain."

Raising his sword, Ramza cocked his head to the side, his gaze locked onto Wiegraf's. The man stared up at him, a faraway look in his eyes.

"Damn." Wiegraf spat. "I'm sorry Miluda... I wasn't… strong enough."

Ramza was unaware of the tendrils of darkness that snaked around him, caressing his frame languidly as he aimed the tip of his sword at Wiegraf's throat. He wanted nothing more than to strip the man of life, to relieve his pain through Wiegraf's flesh.

"_**Holder of the Holy Stone… Promise me…"**_

Ramza's eyes widened, as Wiegraf reached into his shredded tunic, pulling Aries slowly out. Ramza did not hesitate, his hand snapping down to slap the stone from Wiegraf's grasp. It clattered across the damaged ground, far out of reach.

"I don't think so." Ramza said, snarling at the stone as the voice within faded.

The Beoulve suddenly became aware of everything going on around him, of the pain in his chest and the darkness that danced around him. His eyes widened, taking in all the destruction he had wrought in his revenge fueled rage. It still ticked there, in the back of his mind, begging to be released once more. He wanted to cut Wiegraf down, to watch the blood spill from his body. The desire to run him through was almost unbearable.

_Remember what we're fighting for, Ramza. Remember who the real enemy is._

Alma's words echoed in his mind, instantly dispelling the loss and anger, if only for a moment. She'd spoken those words to him once before, as a reminder of what he was really after. Her voice, though imagined, grounded him. It took him out of the dark place his pain had dragged him, and it hurt to breathe for a moment.

"Just cut me down, as you did my sister…" Wiegraf said quietly, closing his eyes in acceptance of his fate.

"Do not make the same mistake she did." Ramza said, sheathing his sword reluctantly. "I offered Miluda quarter, she chose death instead, and I'll not give you the satisfaction of joining her just yet. You're taking me to Murond."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Vormav bowing to his daughter? Damn right. First I'd like to point out that Meliadoul's manifestation is very similar to Altima's, with a reason you'll see soon. Her initial form as seen by Ramza, like all Lucavi, is that of the demon. The Mel we see in this chapter is her human guise, though Shemhazai altered her somewhat, like Altima does. We all know just what Alma is meant to become, now it's just a matter of seeing if she is saved in time. Allow me to fight off my 5:30 AM weariness for a moment to try and recall what else I wanted to mention. The Ramza and Wiegraf duel was rather fun, seeing as they were both after revenge for their siblings, and I hope you liked it.

There will be more to the Delita and Zalbag issue, including another less 'shouting match' confrontation later. I didn't want to spend a lot of time with them bickering over it, and just had to include the Agrias induced slap-to-the-present. Delita definitely needed to be taken down to a notch, and there's an even bigger slice of humble pie in store for him in the future. In light of this chapter, it's going to be interesting to see what happens when _Izlude and Wiegraf_ see each other again as well.

One thing I wanted to address was Mel's pact with a Lucavi. Rafa managed to bring her brother back from the brink without allowing a demon to have her, and I wanted to have a parallel to that with Mel and Izlude, along with the many other parallels in this story. However, the circumstances were definitely different. Lucavi seem to seek chinks in emotional armor; be they hate, despair, or greed. Meliadoul was overcome with anger and grief, lowering her defenses and allowing Shem access to her heart. I felt, given what she'd just seen, it was quite justified.

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter, R-R appreciated, and you never know when your comment might spark some new plot device in me.

**Insanity Lord:** Mostly the PS1 version, yes. I've taken some liberties on names and places I preferred from the PSP incarnation though.

**Caellach:** There's definitely some Lucavi to be fought, but there are still a handful of very human foes that stand in Ramza's way, so plenty of conflict without the demons. Some of them might catch you by surprise. Maybe I should bring Algus back twice more to get killed, in a great Anti-Scrappy campaign.

Thanks everyone for the well wishes. Fatherhood is going to be... daunting, but it's something I'd looked forward to all my life.


	26. Tormented

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Tormented**

* * *

Cid was sitting in the dining room of their makeshift headquarters in Bervenia when Beowulf returned. He nursed a glass of wine, even though it was rather early in the day, as he discussed current matters with Gaff. The veteran knight had become more concerned with each passing day, as they had received no word from either Ramza or Zalbag.

He and Gaff had gathered all of the remaining Hokuten, as well as the Bervenian men at arms who pledged their service, but without the two Beoulve's they were uncertain how to proceed. Beowulf dusted himself off as he nodded to the two men, pouring a glass of water from the jug on the table.

"I take it you were successful?" Orlandu asked calmly.

"Yes." The former Templar replied, taking a quick drink. "It seems the Nanten aren't taking us as seriously with Ramza gone, for the convoy was ill equipped."

"All the better for us. You may bring her in."

Orlandu shot a look at the Dark Knight next to him as Beowulf called for their captive to be allowed in. Gaff's smirk made it clear he looked forward to the coming conversation, and the smile grew as he heard Cid sigh in preparation for the potential headache.

"I should have assumed you were behind this." The woman said as she stepped inside.

Ruvelia, the former Queen of Ivalice, looked quite good considering she'd been imprisoned in Bethla Garrison for some time. She was no longer dressed in the flowing gowns that marked her status, instead donning the clothes of a commoner to blend in. The woman had lost a little weight, but it didn't detract from her presence or natural beauty. In her prime, Ruvelia had been capable of melting even the most frozen of hearts.

"Apologies, Your Majesty," Orlandu began. "I shall be sure to not rescue you next time."

"If it's a choice between being a prisoner of the Southern Sky and being saved by _you_, I'm not certain which is preferable." The woman shot back, raising her chin and sitting across from him.

Gaff chuckled lightly, taking a swig of mead and settling back in his chair. Cid would have given anything not to have the Touten present, but the man was as deeply rooted in the affairs of Ramza's troupe as he was, and as such needed to be involved.

"I must say, I never expected to see the two of you in the same room ever again." Ruvelia noted, glancing between the two knights. "Without trying to kill each other, that is."

"The Ordallian Front is a long way from here, and a long time ago." Orlandu replied. "We've put the past behind for the good of Ivalice, as should you."

"You took away my throne and you want me to forgive and forget? Not to mention…"

"By all means, do mention." Gaff interrupted, smirking devilishly.

Cid shot the man a harsh look, before turning his gaze back to the former Queen. Ruvelia continued to glare at him, a touch of disdain on her attractive features. For a long moment the room was plunged into silence, before Orlandu finally sighed.

"We're leaving tomorrow to meet with Ramza and our allies, before marching on Bethla Garrison."

"You think the Beoulve runt and your pitiful army has a chance against the army _you_ trained?" The woman asked, her tone genuinely curious in spite of her words.

"Considering how spread out the Nanten are, I'd say taking Bethla is far from impossible, and it may be the only way to make Delita stop and listen to us. I tell you this only so you can make a choice. You can come with us, and perhaps find a way to serve the _Queen_, or you can remain here in obscurity."

"How… how dare-"

"There is a room prepared for you." Cid said, cutting her off. "You have until the morning to decide."

The man waved her off casually, and Ruvelia's face was bright red as she shoved her chair back, rising quickly and looking mutinous. Cid could only guess at the slew of insults she wished to level at him, but found he didn't have the time or patience to hear them.

"You should thank the 'Beoulve runt', by the way. It was his idea to show you mercy."

Huffing, Ruvelia stormed from the room, slamming the heavy door behind her as she departed. After a long moment, Cid took a deep breath, trying his best to ignore the chuckling knight at his side.

"After all this time, she's still bitter." Gaff said, shaking his head slowly.

"If I may ask," Beowulf began, making his presence known finally. "What was that all about?"

"Hell hath no fury." The dark knight replied, laughing. "I suppose I'll fill you in, since I know Cid won't. She and our dear Orlandu have a bit of history together."

"History I can't get away from, it seems." Cid sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"Before Ruvelia became our beloved and worshipful Queen, she was pining for the affections of a pair of rather famous knights. One was already married, and eventually spurned her advances despite being her brother's personal knight."

"You're speaking of Balbanes Beoulve?"

"Yes, but of course he wasn't the only one Ruvelia had her eye on. Cid, in his impetuous youth, actually took her up on her offer."

"You… and the Queen?" Beowulf asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I wasn't always this old, you know." Cid replied.

"It was quite the torrid affair," Gaff said, chuckling. "Up until Duke Larg arranged for her to marry the late king. She refused to be handed off to such a weak, cowardly man."

"What happened?"

"The very thing she hates me for is what gave her the throne she covets so greatly now." Cid said calmly.

"He let her go, and it wasn't exactly gentle." Gaff continued. "It was the right choice, especially in the middle of the campaign against Ordallia, but the Queen never forgave him for pushing her onto the throne."

"Did you love her?" Beowulf asked, the words strangely sincere, coming from such a renowned Templar.

Cid mulled the question over for a moment, reflecting back on a time long since forgotten. He'd put the entire thing behind him, refusing to dwell on Ruvelia for the good of Ivalice, but he was never able to really put her out of his mind. As Cid opened his mouth to speak, a strange sound began to emanate through the large building. It seemed to come from everywhere at once, a deep thrumming that seemed to vibrate through the very stone walls.

"What is that?" Gaff asked, quickly rising.

"It sounds like it's coming from outside." Beowulf replied, jogging out of the dining room.

Cid stood, pushing his chair in and following the two men. He was only mildly concerned about the strange humming, his mind drifting back to a time in his life when he was much younger.

* * *

After posting Lavian as the first watch for the night, Agrias collapsed near the small fire in their makeshift camp. Alicia had already curled up in her bedroll, asleep before she even settled to the ground, as usual. A short distance from her, Zalbag Beoulve leaned back against a small boulder, lounging and staring into the dancing flames.

"Where's Delita?" Agrias asked quietly, frowning thoughtfully at the man.

The Arc Knight replied with a jerk of the head, and Agrias followed it to see the future king staring across the moonlit plains, well out of earshot. It seemed neither man wanted to enjoy a warm fire together. Agrias turned her gaze back to the Beoulve, curious what role he had played in the death of Delita's sister.

Teta wasn't a topic the young Nanten leader had brought up often when speaking with Agrias, but she'd known enough to understand that the girl had been Delita's driving force for his ambition, and she could appreciate the loyalty even if it was ill used. The man had never spoke of Zalbag's involvement, however, and she knew nothing of it until the former Hokuten commander mentioned Ziekden.

"I think," Zalbag said suddenly, glancing at her. "He's worried that he'll try to kill me, if he gets close."

"You weren't… the one who killed her, were you?"

"He told you of Teta?" Zalbag asked, looking surprised. "No, I didn't personally take her life, but my hands are no less stained by the act."

Zalbag stared at his palms for a moment, frowning thoughtfully. He seemed confused for a moment, shaking his head, before the Beoulve leveled his gaze at her.

"I gave the order." He whispered, as much to himself as to her. "I chose the Beoulve name over my own heart, and in doing so dishonored it more than the men who fought against us."

"Sometimes duty requires sacrifice." Agrias replied, realizing instantly how cold she sounded. "No man is free from it."

"I can think of one." Zalbag said, smirking to himself.

It took Agrias only a moment to know who he was referring to, and she silently had to agree. Ramza was the one man she had met who never compromised his morals. He followed his heart without a second thought, and was more honorable than any knight twice his age.

"When he was growing up," Zalbag continued. "I always went out of my way to teach him, and Delita, the way to lead men. In hindsight, perhaps I should have been _his _student instead."

"Our world is not painted in black and white," Agrias said, setting her jaw. "There's no middle ground, when it comes to war. If… if your actions are for the greater good, then they are acceptable."

"The ends justify the means?" Zalbag asked, before slowly shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Lady Oaks, but I'm afraid I no longer believe that. We all must answer for our sins, and stand before judgment to accept the consequences."

"Then you've fallen into your brother's willful, simple ignorance."

"I suppose I have." The man replied, smiling gently at her. "But can you honestly say your own sins do not burden you?"

Agrias glared at him, annoyed and frustrated at his apparent failure to accept one of the truths of the world. Wordlessly the woman lay upon her bedroll, turning her back to the Beoulve and scowling into the darkness. She didn't want to admit it, but deep down she felt that there was some truth to his words. After all she had done to bring about peace for Ovelia's kingdom, she felt very little of it herself.

* * *

Orbonne stood like a beacon of light against the uncontested blackness that surrounded it. Clouds obscured the stars above, and had made the final stretch to the monastery rather slow going. Ramza was relieved to see the flickering light that flooded out from the still demolished door of the structure, as he quickly strode up the stone steps.

Wiegraf Folles followed closely behind him, his pace more measured as the man approached the scene of his recent attack. He seemed hesitant to enter it once more, as though he would be struck down for his previous transgression. Ramza nodded to the door, urging him inside before he crossed the threshold.

As expected, Simon was waiting for him. The priest had done a fairly admirable job of cleaning up the debris left over, but still hadn't repaired the door to the monastery. No doubt he was busy with Ramza's task for him. As Wiegraf slipped inside as well, before the priest had even greeted the young Beoulve, Simon's gaze widened. He stared at the former Death Knight for a long moment, obviously assuring himself the man wasn't armed, before he glanced at Ramza.

"Are you certain this is a good idea?" Simon asked quietly, frowning.

"I am." Ramza replied, nodding solemnly. "Is Izlude well?"

"His recovery was… miraculous. I would not have believed it had my own weary eyes not seen it."

"I expected as much." Ramza said slowly, his gaze locked upon the floor.

"I looked through the archives, as you asked." Simon said, wringing his hands.

"What did you find?"

"It is as you suspected, I believe. All signs seem to point to the Templars using Alma as a host…"

Ramza sighed, closing his eyes and cursing himself for being right. The Shrine Knights had taken his sister to try and taint her soul with the same darkness that had risen in Meliadoul, and Ramza had no way of knowing if the girl could even resist such evil.

"I discovered something else that may interest you." Simon said, clearing his throat. "It seems that Ajora Glabados had a wife."

It only took Ramza a moment to discern the importance of such a revelation, and his mind was racing with the implications.

"Let me guess." Ramza said, gazing upon the priest. "Her name was Morrigan."

"Morrigan _Konoe_, to be precise."

"As in St. Konoe?"

"Indeed. The knights were named for Saint Morrigan Konoe, and she was the first recorded battle maiden. After her victories in Ajora's name, as his champion, female knights became commonplace."

"Then it's likely that the same darkness that took Meliadoul was born in her, centuries ago."

"If we are to believe Germonik, then yes, Morrigan was the original host for Shemhazai."

"Pardon my interruption," Wiegraf began, looking lost. "But what are you two babbling about?"

"Shut up." Ramza commanded, a withering stare locked onto the man.

"Ramza," Simon continued. "If that really is Shemhazai, then they're planning to use Alma to-"

"I know." Ramza replied quickly, cutting him off as the sound Izlude approaching from within the monastery filled the air.

The young Tingel stepped into the room, his face a carefully calm mask, until the moment he spotted the man that had arrived with Ramza. The knight stiffened, shock registering on his face for only a moment before it turned into undisguised anger.

"You survived?" Wiegraf asked, obviously surprised.

Izlude snarled, crossing the room quickly as his hand snapped to the sword at his side. Ramza met him halfway, one hand clamping down on his friend's wrist before he could fully free his blade. The two men impacted roughly, Izlude's features touched with agony as he sought to draw his weapon.

"Izlude, stay your hand."

"But Ramza, he-"

"He's going to take us to Alma." Ramza explained, slowly forcing the man's sword fully into its sheath.

"We can trust him!" Izlude cried, torn between loyalty to his friend and his urge to kill Wiegraf on the spot. "He'll betray us the first chance he gets, and because of him Mel is…"

"I know." Ramza said calmly. "We need him though, and if he takes one step out of line, I'll send him to hell without legs to carry him, or even arms to crawl."

The Beoulve's voice was laced with venom, each word as much a threat to Wiegraf as reassurance to Izlude. As it was, he was still debating whether he would kill the traitorous knight the moment they reached Murond or not. After what Wiegraf had done, he doubted he would hesitate for a moment or feel any remorse for cleaving the man's head off.

"…very well." Izlude said finally, his voice a whisper as he released the hilt of his sword.

"We're going to get her back." Ramza said with conviction. "Even if I have to tear the entire city apart…"

* * *

**Author's Note:** Another delay, and my apologies for it. I wasn't sure how to play out the Izlude and Wiegraf initial meeting, and just how to thread in Morrigan's backstory. I'm content with it I suppose. I should be able to move on finally, and get working on this more.

I was completely joking about Algus making an appearance. He doesn't deserve any face-time, even if it is only to kill him again. As far as Cid and Gaff go, I was planning a small afterthought about them this chapter, but decided to flesh their current plans out more to include Ruvelia, who I wasn't sure if I wanted to make an appearance. I did want to give her some history with Cid thought, and I think I'll expand on it a little more later on. Not much more to say, but thanks to everyone who was patiently waiting for an update.

With luck and some grinding, I should have the next chapter completed in a few days.


	27. Murond Infiltration: Part One

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Murond Infiltration - Part One**

* * *

The Holy City of Murond was said to be as ancient as Ivalice itself, and some claimed it was the only city to have survived the cataclysm that had ripped the airships from the skies. It was the seat of power for the Glabados Church, and home to every Priest and Templar who swore fealty to the High Confessor. Ramza was only mildly surprised to find that every weathered stone building seemed to be empty.

Murond was devoid of life, silent and ominous, the only sound the footsteps of the three men who strode warily through its streets. None of them spoke, afraid to break the quiet that had taken up residence in the city. As they walked, Wiegraf pointed them in the direction of the High Confessor's Church. Each time he raised his arm Izlude tensed, but he made no move against the man. The tension in the air was thick, almost palpable, and Ramza couldn't wait to be rid of the traitorous Folles, one way or another.

As they approached the large cathedral, a hollow wind drifting through the abandoned homes, Ramza noticed the first sign that anyone was still inside the city. There were dozens of people lining the street in front of the church, lifeless. Most lie on the cobbled street, dead with no visible wounds, though some were slouched against exterior walls or face down in adjoining alleys. Every one of them had the same look of horror etched onto their face, their last moments far from peaceful.

"What is this?" Wiegraf said quietly, a touch of fear slipping into his features.

Ramza ignored him, as he only now noticed the one man not sprawled out in the sleep of death. He stood directly in front of the massive doors leading into the cathedral, dark eyes focused at the three visitors. Dressed in the garb of a sorcerer, a large hat crooked on his head, the man strode calmly away from the church, his face still.

"So you have come." He said calmly, his expression blank.

"Who are you?" Ramza replied, tightly gripping the hilt of his sword.

"What is a name, really? I've gone so long without hearing mine spoken, I wonder sometimes how I haven't forgotten it. I was called Elidibs, when I still lived as you do. However, you may call me Zodiark."

"You _will_ let us pass." Ramza said warningly.

He knew what this Elidibs was the moment he began to speak. The Lucavi loved their air of mystery and ominous words. As much as he wanted to cut the demon down, he would try to avoid it for the sake of haste. If he wanted to save Alma he couldn't waste time destroying another of Ajora's personal vanguard.

"I'm afraid that's out of the question." Elidibs said casually, sighing. "I was quite content in my solitude, pondering such thoughts you could never hope to understand, but I cannot refuse Shemhazai's summons. The end is almost here, Ramza Beoulve, and I have been tasked with keeping you from meddling in it."

Ramza and Izlude drew their blades even as the wizard began to change. His transformation was wholly different than the other Lucavi that Ramza had faced before, and the immediate shift from human to demon set him on guard. Wiegraf gasped, stumbling back, as Elidibs exploded from his robes.

Roiling out from within the confines of the heavy robes, Zodiark burst into the sky. The long, segmented form seemed to spew out like a ribbon pulled from a jester's sleeve, massive wings whipping open to give its serpentine form flight. The giant winged snake poised itself above them, a pair of thick arms protruding grotesquely just below its flat head. There it hovered for a moment, smiling maliciously down at them.

"Welcome to Murond," Zodiark said in a lilting hiss. "City of Death!"

Ramza braced himself, his sword gripped tightly in one hand, as the demon descended on them.

* * *

"This is the quiet of death…" Agrias said as she glanced around the empty streets.

"Let's not wait idly to meet the harbinger of it," Zalbag added, urging her on. "Which way is it to the church?"

Agrias nodded once, clearing her head and banishing her misgivings. The Lucavi had no doubt purged Murond of all its inhabitants, and it wasn't likely they simply asked them to leave. Leading the way Agrias threaded the gathered knights through the city, eyes constantly scanning every side street and uncovered window. It was as though everyone had vanished, torn from the world and cast away, never to be seen again. The silence was so thick in the air that Agrias felt as though she were walking through molasses.

"If there's anyone left in Murond, they'll surely be in the High Confessor's church, and they won't be human." Agrias said absently, tossing a glance at Lavian and Alicia to prepare them for the coming struggle.

"I don't understand." Delita said quietly, his eyes narrowed. "How could something like this pass by me undetected? I have agents placed all over the Glabados Church."

"This isn't the Church's doing." Zalbag replied. "At least not the way you think. The Templars have taken great effort to hide the truth from anyone who could oppose them, and that is why so few of us even know of the Lucavi's plot to bring war to Ivalice."

"What of the High Confessor?" Delita continued. "It was his declaration of war that sought to strip the Southern Sky of its power."

"He's just a puppet. The Lucavi wished to weaken Ivalice with the Lion War to the point that they could put whatever plans they have made into motion, and promised High Priest Funeral that he would rule as King. No doubt they've already killed him."

"Quiet." Agrias said suddenly, halting along the back wall of the massive church.

After a moment, when she was content that she had only imagined the sounds that echoed into her ears, she turned to the others.

"I've only been to Murond once, so I have no idea where the back entrance to the church will take us, but I'm sure it's a better option than the front."

"Or, if these demons of yours are smart at all, it will be heavily guarded."

"They're confident of their superiority, even arrogant. I doubt they'll bother to-"

Agria was cut off by a hissing, ululating wail that echoed off the surrounding buildings. Everyone cringed as one, as the woman spun to try and determine the source of the scream. She knew what it was, and what it meant. There was someone else in Murond this afternoon, and the Lucavi weren't taking too kindly to their presence.

* * *

Wiegraf watched in horror as the serpent flitted across the street, its screams chilling him to the bone. He had no desire to fight such a monstrosity, but he would have felt better to at least have a sword in his hand. He cursed that Beoulve scum for stripping him of the means to defend himself even as Ramza fought the beast.

For all the skill of the two knights, Wiegraf knew they were no match for the demon. They fought ferociously, managing to avoid the razor sharp teeth and wicked clawed hands as the winged snake had charged them over and over. There had been a brief moment of hope when Izlude, rather spritely for a dead man, had managed an impressive leaping slash that tore through one of the demon's wing, but it had been short lived.

Even grounded, Zodiark was impossibly fast. The serpent flew across the ground, fallen men buffeted aside as it slid toward the faltering knights. Ramza and Izlude were too focused on avoiding the demon's attacks to see what Wiegraf could, but the creature was _healing_ its wounds as it fought. There was no way they could win a sustained battle with such a horror.

Wiegraf sidled along the street, torn between a desire to flee for his life and a strange fascination with watching the battle. All the while his eyes darted to the bodies of the Priests and Shrine Knights lining the street, hoping to find some kind of weapon. Finding nothing he could use, he focused instead on the hopeless struggle before him.

For all Ramza Beoulve's skill and raw power, he was still just a man. What attacks he did land on the slithering demon were shrugged off quickly, only furthering to anger the creature more as it sought to tear him apart. The two men held their ground, fighting in tandem as the serpent slipped in quickly to try and get inside their guard.

Though the battle had been short lived, both Ramza and Izlude already seemed to be growing weary. There was no break between the demon's attacks, as it constantly darted back in, feinting and moving with the perverse grace that only a snake could possess.

It was a moment later that the Beoulve faltered, not expecting that Zodiark had restored its ability to take to the skies. The demon caught a downward slash with one of its thick arms, discolored digits wrapping tightly around Ramza's wrist as it knocked Izlude back with a whip of its heavy tail. The serpent burst into the sky, heaving the Dark Knight up and tossing him bodily through the air.

Ramza was flung up, crashing down roughly to the cobble street, his sword clattering away. The knight lie motionless, as a rasping laugh slipped from the reptilian lips of the beast. Zodiark hovered above them, wings pumping as it turned its gaze on the recovering Izlude.

Wiegraf knew what would come once the demon had dispatched with the Tingel boy, and his mind screamed continually for him to retreat. This monster, this creature from the depths of hell, was not some mortal foe he could defeat. He would have never run from a man, but a demon of legend was out of his league. Yet, Wiegraf stood where he was, his gaze drifting toward the fallen Beoulve.

Was this the fate he had cast upon the noble's sister? Had she become a meal for some unspeakable horror such as this? Wiegraf felt a knot forming in his stomach, bile burning his throat. He hadn't intended for the girl to be killed, not like this. He never wished to be the tool of some unholy monster. Was vengeance worth all of this?

Without thinking, Wiegraf sprinted toward Ramza's still form, bending at the waist as he ran. The Beoulve had kept Wiegraf's sword on his belt, and with one smooth motion the former Death Knight snatched it free from its sheath. Ramza's chest still rose and fell, and Wiegraf paused, his sword held firmly in his grasp. He had a passing thought, a drifting idea that slipped to the front of his mind. He could take the man's life now, and avenge Miluda with but one stroke.

No, not like this. Not while Ramza lie helpless and injured. He would avenge his sister, but he would do it honorably, so that he could face her in the afterlife. Spinning away from the fallen knight, Wiegraf charged toward the small battle that still raged.

Izlude, to his credit, was still alive. The young knight leapt to the side, narrowly avoiding being crushed against the stone wall behind him by a sweep of the demon's tail. Wiegraf chanted under his breath, calling forth a pillar of light down upon the creature. Zodiark screamed in rage, its serpentine head whipping toward him as Izlude struggled to his feet.

Seeing Wiegraf as the more direct threat the creature dove, massive arms gouging the stone as it charged straight toward him. Wiegraf raised his sword, uncertain if he would be able to repel the demon as it bore down on him. The serpents glistening fangs were only an arm's length away, putrid breath washing over him, when he was relieved of the need.

An ethereal blue sword burst forth from the stone below Zodiark, impaling its head and throwing it to the side. The demon slid across the cobbles, rising quickly and howling in defiance. Wiegraf's gaze jerked to the source of the sword skill, and was somewhat shocked at who he saw.

He recognized Delita Hyral and Zalbag in a moment, though the women accompanying them were unfamiliar to him. One of the female knights rushed to Izlude's side, checking to be sure he was unharmed, while the others advanced on the thrashing beast.

Wiegraf sidled back toward Ramza, putting some more distance between himself and the creature, as the other knights slowly circled it. Zodiark coiled in the street, crimson eyes sizing up the advancing humans, before it exploded into the sky once more. Its ascent was met with a barrage of arcane might, as all four capable knights unleashed their sword skills.

The demon was grounded once again by the force of the combined attack, its shredded wings gushing tar black blood. It howled at them, and once again darted across the street at the closest target, the future king of Ivalice. Delita fell back, allowing the female Holy Knight and Zalbag a clear avenue for their skills. Zodiark was buffeted by the dual spells, clawing at the stone beneath it as it struggled forward.

The two female knights and Izlude took this opening to lunge ahead, burying their blades into the creature's scaly hide. It screamed maliciously, snapping its massive tail to the side to throw off one of the women, as another barrage of holy skills blasted through its body.

Wiegraf planted his feet, unleashing his own learned arts upon the demon, as it began to become more sluggish. Zodiark managed to fling the other woman away, and quickly attempted to coil around Izlude, whose blade remained imbedded in its thick scales.

The Tingel knight leapt up, avoiding the crushing pressure, and landed on the creatures back. The demon began to thrash violently, attempting to throw the man off as he struggled to keep his grip.

"Izlude!" Ramza cried from behind Wiegraf, causing the man to glance back.

The Beoulve had crawled the short distance to his obsidian blade, and hurled it through the air. It flew in a slow arc, as the two female knights dove back in to thrust their swords into the serpent once more. Izlude leaned forward with his arm outstretched, and snatched the sword from the air smoothly. He quickly reversed his grip, clinging to the demons back as it shook, and drove the point of the blade through the top of its head.

Zodiark thrashed violently one last time, hurling Izlude from its back, before it imploded, darkness compressing its monstrous form. With a heavy thud a large stone fell to the street, landing next to the winded Tingel.

* * *

Ramza lie on his side, propped up on one elbow, his head pounding and his breath ragged. He let out a sigh of relief as the demon was finally banished, wary of what else might be in store for them. None of the other Lucavi had been so formidable, and it was certainly going to be more harrowing from here.

He glanced up to see Wiegraf standing over him, sword held tightly at his side. Silence reigned as their gazes locked, the other knights gathered looking on in uncertainty. Izlude remained on his hands and knees, slowly crawling toward his discarded sword.

"I didn't want _this_." Wiegraf said, aiming the point of his sword at the holy stone. "But know that we're not finished, you and I."

Ramza frowned slightly as Wiegraf offered his hand. He had no wish to ally himself with the man, and could not forgive him for his transgressions, but there were more pressing matters. Saving Alma was his goal, and he knew he could put anything aside to see it through. Another sword was an asset, even if it was only for a short while.

"Fair enough." He replied, allowing the man to hoist him up.

Wiegraf promptly strode away, as the others rushed toward Ramza. Bending forward to catch his breath, he reached up to brace himself against Izlude, who was the first to reach him.

"How bad are you hurt?" His friend asked, frowning in concern.

"It's nothing," Ramza said, waving him off. "Just a few bruises."

In truth, he felt like he'd been thrown from a mountain, but Ramza knew he could carry on. He had no choice in the matter, even if he had broken every bone in his body.

"So that is a Lucavi." Delita said absently, staring at the pale green stone in his hand.

"A nasty one at that." Agrias noted, sheathing her sword. "We need to press on quickly."

"Just give me a moment." Ramza said, taking a deep breath and stretching upward.

"Ramza," His brother asked, perplexed. "Where's Mel? Why isn't she here with you both?"

Ramza and Izlude reacted as though they'd been struck, and suddenly Ramza felt as though he were out of breath again. He'd done his best to not think of the woman, focusing solely on Alma's rescue. It hurt too much to admit she was lost to him as completely as though she had died.

"There's no time to explain now," Ramza said, his voice unnervingly cold as he shot a heated glance at Wiegraf's back. "We need to get moving."

Burying his black sword in its scabbard, Ramza walked purposefully toward the doors of the cathedral, his expression dark.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I took some liberties with Elidibs/Zodiark, since I didn't feel the Tactics version was an epic enough Group Fight Lucavi, and the FFXII version would have been strange to describe. I wanted to make Zodiark a beast, outperforming every other Lucavi thus far, and I think I touched on that pretty well. He ate what, a dozen sword skills like a boss? Wiegraf decides to join the fray (sort of), and I'd like to know what people think about that. He's hardly going to end up buddy-buddy with Ramza and Izlude, especially with what he's done, but I always kind of liked his character, and figured he deserved a chance to do _something_ right.

Herein we see Ramza actually get stomped on in a fight. Part of the point of making Ramza so powerful when faced with other humans is to show that even with all his skill, he still isn't a match for the really powerful Lucavi. Zodiark was considered pretty mighty, and Shemhazai _forced_ Elidibs to fight for them, and I wanted to show that yes Ramza can lose. He still _might_ lose, actually. I have done things like that in the past.

All in all I'm pretty much content with this chapter. I think the Zodiark fight was drawn out enough without making it boring, and I couldn't help but love the mental image of all those knights wailing on him with sword arts while Izlude and the Lionsguard stab the snake out of him. By the way, and you'll notice this more later, Izlude took a level in badass. Or is gradually taking one at least.

I had something else I wanted input on. Does any of my readers have any good music advice? Anything you listened to while reading and it fit? I've got a playlist set up for when I write, which I'd be more than happy to name some of the 'repeat' songs on it, but I'm always looking for other tracks to fill it up. Any suggestions?

Next chapter is being worked on. Will Ramza save Alma in time? Are there more Lucavi in the near future? What about Mel? No, really, I'm asking. I got about four different ways to take each of those, and not all of them are pretty.

**Vegeta the 3rd: **I really liked the idea of Cid and Ruvelia having something of a history, and there will be a bit more of it to come. All of the Lucavi? Hmm...

**luckiest man alive:** I'm inclined to agree with you about his character being flat during Dycedarg's death. I didn't really think about it at the time. Honestly, this story became less about Ramza and more about _everyone else_, and some plot with a little Ramza. I find more and more I like going into the other side characters more than Ramza, except for the romance between him and Mel. Not to say he's not the main character still, but the diverging plotlines and character building is just a lot of fun.


	28. Murond Infiltration: Part Two

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Murond Infiltration - Part Two**

* * *

They moved through the deserted holy cathedral in silence, the company of knights, swords drawn in anticipation of another of the Lucavi. The High Confessor's sanctum was deathly quiet, the only sound in its expansive halls being the footfalls of the assembled heroes. It unnerved all of them, to pass unmolested further into the temple, though none bothered to voice their worries.

Ramza led the procession, shoving open the double doors to High Priest Funeral's personal prayer chambers. He was not prepared for the blood. It pooled not far from the door, staining the red carpet a deeper shade of crimson, before streaking toward the three steps ahead of them. Marge Funeral, the leader and holiest among the Glabados sect, lay crumpled upon the stairs.

For a moment none of them moved, wary of an ambush, but Ramza quickly stepped further into the room. Hearing the sounds of life, the High Confessor struggled weakly, attempting to crawl up the last of the stairs. Gasping, surprised that the man could still draw breath with the river of blood he had created, Ramza rushed to the man's side.

Funeral turned a hollow gaze to the young Beoulve, his eyes glazed over and his mouth slack. The man frowned thoughtfully at Ramza, feebly reaching to take a handful of his tunic. Gathering in a small circle around the priest, the rest of the knights looked on.

"You… Beoulve…?"

"Yes." Ramza said quickly, wiping blood from the man's chin with his sleeve. "My sister, Alma, where is she?"

"The Templars, monsters, betrayed me." The priest said, wheezing. "She is the vessel, they said. She is their… Bloody Angel."

"_Where?"_

"The catacombs far beneath us…" He replied, sagging against the steps.

"And what of the Queen?" Agrias added, kneeling at the man's head.

"Ovelia…" Funeral said, closing his eyes and swallowing hard. "North tower, locked away, with one of _them_…"

Ramza prepared to stand, not caring much for the man's suffering. It was the greed and lust for power of the High Confessor that enabled the Templars to bring their plans to pass, and he hardly felt sympathy for the priest's fate. Funeral gripped his arm tightly, however, in a surprising burst of strength.

"Stop them… don't let them destroy…"

Coughing, the man fell back to the stairs, taking in one sharp gasp before his mouth went slack. He stared blankly at Ramza, a ghost of an old man grasping for the reins of power. Shrugging the dead hand off of his arm, Ramza bound to his feet.

"We'll have to split up." Izlude noted, turning his attention to Ramza.

"Agrias," Delita said, his voice carrying the tone of his station as regent. "I trust you'll return the Queen safely?"

"Of course." She replied defensively.

"I shall accompany her and the Lionsguard." Zalbag added, nodding solemnly to the St. Konoe Knights. "Ramza, I still have Taurus and Scorpio with me, and I think it'd be wise if we each carried one. Just in case..."

"Agreed. Izlude and Wiegraf will come with me." Ramza said as he accepted the Taurus stone, before casting a withering stare at the man who was once his closest friend. "I suppose you would prefer to wait here, Delita?"

"You think me a coward?" Delita said, his tone serious despite a ghost of a smile. "We may not have parted on good terms, but Alma is as much a sister to me as Teta was, and I won't abandon her."

Ramza regarded him for a long moment before nodding, content with his response. He didn't trust Delita in the least, but he felt he could put faith in that. He would have done the same for Teta without a second thought.

"We're wasting time." Wiegraf added, cocking his head to the side as he gazed at the blood on the floor.

"Right." Ramza replied, gripping Zalbag's forearm tightly in a farewell gesture. "Good luck."

"Since when does a Beoulve need luck, little brother?"

* * *

Agrias took the stairs two at a time, adjusting the shield on her off hand as she climbed the north tower. Zalbag matched her stride, reaching the top landing with Lavian and Alicia hot on their heels. Shouldering the heavy wood door open, Agrias burst into the room, skittering to a stop on the stone floor.

The man dressed in blue robes that stood before them was someone she could recognize in an instant, and she snarled at him. Rofel Wodring was one of the ranking Templars of Glabados, and the personal knight of the Tingel family. It came as no surprise that he was knee deep in Lucavi business. The skilled Divine Knight smiled at them from across the room, blocking the door that no doubt held Ovelia. He carried no weapon, but Agrias was hesitant to move against him.

"I could let you walk out with Her Majesty, to be honest." The man said casually, glancing at the door. "We have no use for her, and having to stand guard is such a waste of my time and talent. However, I think I'd find it more enjoyable to beat you all within inches of death's grasp, and then tear her apart before your eyes."

"I swear," Agrias replied, her voice scathing. "I will cut your murderous throat."

Rofel laughed, reaching into his robes, and a flash of blue-green light burst from the folds of his Templar cloak. The man withdrew his hand, holding it aloft as a wicked polearm materialized. Ethereal green light extended the length of the weapon, forming a wicked trident that was easily two heads taller than Agrias.

As soon as it had appeared, Rofel began to change. His body began to shift, shoulders becoming broader as his waist collapsed inward, giving him a slightly feminine appearance. Pale blue and green hues swirled around the Templar's body, facilitating his metamorphosis.

Beneath the hood of his robes, a mask grew to obscure his features, which became his face more than it covered them. His Templar uniform no longer fit properly, unearthly armor protruding through the thick cloth in several places. He took on a long limbed, languid appearance, and looked to possess a kind of fluid grace.

"Try to surround it," Zalbag whispered quickly. "Keep him off balance."

No sooner had the man spoke than the demon jammed the trident down, digging into the stone at its feet. Shards of ice and a swirling chill exploded in a line toward them, covering the entire room in a layer of hoarfrost. At the front of them, Agrias had little time to react, and the wave of frost was on her in an instant.

The ice crystals leapt up to her knees, as the Lionsguard and Zalbag dove free, encasing her tightly and locking Agrias to the floor. She struggled to break her legs free, as the demon chuckled and gripped his weapon tightly.

"I am Mateus, and the last thing you will see before your blood freezes in your veins!"

* * *

The passages beneath the Murond temple were illuminated by sparse torches, and every shadow leapt out at the four knights as they traversed its depths. They moved quickly and quietly, listening for any furtive sounds of motion ahead of them in the approaching gloom. For the most part the catacombs were straightforward, with only a handful of branches leading off to storage rooms filled with robes and religious paraphernalia.

It wasn't until they reached the bridge that the underground passage became surreal. The stone walkway was wide enough that a chocobo driven cart could have traversed it easily, and well constructed. Skirting to the edge, Ramza peered into the unfathomable darkness below them. There seemed to be no end to its depths, and no doubt a slip of the footing could prove fatal.

Snatching a torch from the corridor behind them, Ramza stepped to the edge once more and cast it into the abyss. The flame plummeted quickly, falling so far that it appeared to snuff itself out before ever reaching what lie below.

"We should probably avoid the edge…" Izlude said, glancing at the others.

"Excellent observation." Wiegraf replied quickly, before striding ahead.

Their footfalls echoing across the stone, the four men began to cross the bridge carefully, unable to see what lie at the other side beyond the light cast from their torches. Ramza felt as though he were standing in the heart of darkness itself, and being unable to see any aspect of the expansive chamber save for the bridge beneath his feet unnerved him.

He hadn't taken five more steps before he stuttered to a halt, as Meliadoul seemed to materialize out of the darkness in front of him. Ramza thought for a moment that he was hallucinating, the darkness and loss in his heart given proper form by the infinite black that surrounded them. It wasn't until Vormav Tingel stepped into the torchlight as well, with an unmoving Alma cradled in his arms, that Ramza found he could move again.

Ramza cast his torch onto the bridge, a small cascade of sparks bouncing across the stone as he drew his sword. Beside him, Izlude growled in controlled anger, pulling his own blade free of its housing. Glancing between his lost love and the bridge, Ramza grew concerned about battling the Lucavi on such treacherous footing. The demons were fast and powerful, and there was little room to maneuver upon the bridge.

Wiegraf and Delita moved to stand beside the other two men, and the demon in Meliadoul's skin chuckled chidingly, the sound reverberating through the darkness. It seemed to last for eons, a stark contrast the musical quality that once filled Mel's laughter.

"Four mighty knights against one woman?" Morrigan asked, smiling warmly. "You big, strong men aren't afraid of me, are you?"

"Release the hold you have on Meliadoul, and return my sister to me, _now_." Ramza commanded coldly.

"No, it seems you don't fear me." The Lucavi replied, ignoring the order entirely. "But what do you fear, I wonder?"

Though Meliadoul's lips did not move, the sound of barely audible words, whispers in the dark, filled the air around them. Shemhazai locked the engaging brown eyes of the body it had stolen upon each of the four men in turn, still smiling. The moment the whispering began to fade, mirrored pools of darkness invaded their pocket of light.

The two ethereal pools formed in front of Delita and Wiegraf, and the men tensed for an incoming attack. Both of the fluid shapes changed their state quickly, moving like oil poured in water, to rapidly take on the dark silhouette of two human forms. The transformation was so swift that none of the four knights had time to even fall back, and Ramza found he was suddenly speechless when he saw the form the pools took.

Wiegraf and Delita stumbled backward, nearly falling in shock, as their sisters appeared in front of them. Teta and Miluda looked the same now as they had in life, in every way perfect replicas of the women they once had been. Even Ramza, who felt he was prepared for anything the Lucavi could throw at him, was surprised.

"What dark sorcery is this?" Wiegraf cried, his gaze leaping to the demon in anger and revulsion.

"A family reunion. Isn't it touching?" Shemhazai replied.

"Why didn't you save us?" The two women spoke at the same time, and their voices were a perfect match for their deceased counterparts.

Before their eyes, both images began to change. Blood trickled down Miluda's chin, as the woman's tunic was quickly soaked scarlet, thick blood pouring from the wound that Ramza had made in her chest over a year prior. In the same instant, Teta's stomach was splashed with crimson, mirroring her appearance when a crossbow bolt had pierced her.

"I was cold and afraid, and you left me with the Death Corps. Do you know what they did to me in that windmill? How could you let them do this to me? How could you let _him_ rape me?" Teta said, very real tears pouring from her eyes as she pointed at Wiegraf, her last words a whisper.

"Teta… I…"

"Don't listen Delita!" Ramza shouted. "It's not really her!"

"We promised we would take back the world, you and I, do you remember?" Miluda asked her brother, her words scathing. "No, of course you don't. You couldn't even avenge my death, and now you're traipsing around with the very men who killed me! How very _noble_ of you, brother!"

Wiegraf's gaze shot to Ramza and Delita, a small snarl touching his lips. Ramza knew what the demon was trying to do, but faced with their lost loved ones, the two men were torn. Morrigan was trying to divide them by bringing their own demons to the light; to turn them against each other.

"It's only an illusion meant to deceive you." Ramza said to his former enemy, wary of Wiegraf's reaction.

"That doesn't make the words less true, does it?" The man replied, setting his jaw and gripping his sword tightly.

"I never sought to take her life, Wiegraf!" Ramza cried. "You knew Miluda, would she have allowed herself to be captured by a Beoulve?"

Wiegraf seemed to mull on that for a moment, his expression dark. Ramza didn't know how to better justify his actions from so long before, and could only hope that the man possessed the strength of character to put aside his hate, for now.

"Ramza Beoulve." Morrigan said lightly, gently caressing her lower lip. "You're quite the enigma. You do not dwell upon the ghosts of your past as these men do. No, you fear instead for the living."

Ramza tensed, his gaze flitting between the demon and Alma, still lying motionless in Vormav's arms. They needed his sister, and couldn't use her to harm Ramza, could they? All it would take is two steps for Vormav to reach the edge of the bridge and cast Alma in the yawning abyss, and the mere thought of it drained the blood from Ramza's face.

"You fear for those you hold dear. Your sister, your lover," Morrigan continued, gently stroking Alma's still face. "Your _friends_."

Ramza noticed the movement out of the corner of his eye, instantly recognizing the motion without a thought, and brought his sword up. He barely managed to deflect the edge of Izlude's blade as it sought his throat, as his closest friend slowly circled to face him.

"Izlude… what are you doing?" Ramza asked, taking a wary step back.

"Your woman asked that I bring him back from the abyss." The demon explained with a smile. "She did not say he couldn't have company."

Ramza's eyes widened as he stared at Izlude. The man's gaze was focused only on him, his face slack and cold. Gone was the light-hearted friend that had stood by his side, to be replaced by whatever dark passenger Shemhazai had sent along with his soul.

"I wish I could stay and enjoy this, but I have preparations to make. My love will need a suitable place to rest his, or should I say her, feet." Morrigan said, placing a soft kiss on the cheek of Ramza's sister. "Hashmal, I trust you can take care of the Awakening?"

"As you wish." Vormav replied, bowing his head.

"I suppose this is farewell again, Ramza." The demon said, before Ramza watched the woman he loved turn and vanish again.

"Morrigan!" He cried out, as Izlude raised his sword.

* * *

Agrias knelt as best she could while Zalbag and her knights charged at the demon, tossing her shield to the floor. Quickly pulling a dagger free from her belt, the woman set to work on the thick ice that encased her legs. There was little she could do to help them until she was free, and being trapped in place left her vulnerable. Chipping chunks away, she glanced up as the other knights clashed with Mateus.

The Lionsguard quickly began to flank the Lucavi, as Zalbag faced it head on. He charged ahead, bulling Mateus back with several quick slashes. When it came to swordplay, few could match the Beoulve in terms of experience and skill, and that was without factoring his potent arcane abilities. After his initial charge the demon set its stance, and proved that it was more than capable of doing just that.

Mateus snared the man's sword with his polearm, twisting Zalbag's arm roughly to the side in an attempt to disarm him. The Beoulve crouched, using his off hand to brace the hilt of his blade, and rolled with the maneuver, freeing his weapon and putting the demon off balance for but a moment. Had the two of them been dueling, the move would have left him vulnerable to an easy thrust by the demon.

Lavian and Alicia prevented that. The two knights slipped in quickly, slashing at the creature from both sides. The demon rotated quickly enough to knock Lavian's attack away, as the woman's fellow knight cut a shallow wound across his back. Mateus growled and turned, slamming a naturally armored elbow beneath his tattered robes against Alicia's chest. The woman was thrown backwards, bouncing once upon the stone floor before rolling to a crouch.

Zalbag was rising when the demon's weapon came around, the length of the pole slapping roughly across his stomach and sending him airborne. Zalbag managed to land well, sliding nearer to Agrias and gasping sharply for breath. It was at that moment that Mateus noticed Agrias, dagger buried in the solid ice that still wrapped one ankle.

Though the demon's features were obscured by the grotesque mask, Agrias was certain it was smiling. Mateus seemed to drift across the floor, closing the distance between them quickly. It would be on her in only a moment, and with her leg still trapped she had no hope to prevent the Lucavi from skewering her where she stood.

With a swiftness that almost matched the demon that bore down on Agrias, Zalbag darted into the path of its charge. Bringing his sword rapidly with the point aimed down, he deflected the demon's weapon to the side, hissing in pain as one of the trident's barbs pierced the armor on his side. The Arc Knight took the impact of the relentless rush in the shoulder, knocking him to his injured side in the same instant.

At that moment Lavian reached the creature's back, burying the tip of her sword in its right flank. Mateus howled in anger as the Lionsguard Knight fell back, raising her shield defensively to block the retaliatory thrust. Agrias twisted her dagger roughly, wincing as the blade met the flesh of her calf, and yanked her trapped leg free.

Alicia had rejoined the fight at her friend's side, the two women keeping the demon occupied while Zalbag scrambled back to his feet. Agrias was at his side the moment he had risen, pulling his armor out enough to check his wound.

"How bad?" He asked, rolling his shoulder to restore the sensation in it.

"Deep." She said, pressing his stained tunic hard against the gash. "That's what happens when you play at being a hero."

"Glad to see I'm so appreciated." Zalbag said with a sharp laugh, wincing. "I don't know how my brother can stand all this praise."

"It_ is_ appreciated, but can I hold off on worshipping at your feet until later?" Agrias asked with a small smile, turning the man's head to look at his face. "Can you still fight?"

"I'd be fighting right now if you weren't clinging to me for protection."

"Ha!" Agrias shot back, embarrassed to realize that she indeed had been holding tightly to his arm. "I was trying to keep you from spending so much time on the floor."

"If you two are quite finished," Lavian said loudly, discarding her pocked shield as her friend avoided the advancing monster. "We're battling a _demon_ over here."

Striding ahead, Agrias and Zalbag unleashed their sword arts upon the Lucavi's back, drawing its attention from a very appreciative Alicia. Mateus spun in place, his trident coming around in a wicked arc. The demon muttered as he turned, shards of ice instantly forming in the air. Diving away from each other, the two of them rolled across the stone floor as the glacial daggers flew through the air, crashing into the wall not far off.

Agrias rose smoothly, dragging her blade up and bringing an arcane attack through the floor in the same motion. The crimson spike drove through the demon's body, staggering it for a moment as her knights moved to flank Mateus again.

The battle turned into an intricate dance, as the agile Lucavi deftly moved from one knight to the next. What Mateus lacked in raw strength he made up for maneuverability and speed. Even combating four skilled warriors at once, he was able to quickly avoid most of their attacks and counter with his own.

After several minutes of stalemate, it was the demon that finally changed the momentum of the battle. Giving up on fighting with all four of them, he honed in on Lavian, charging her without regard for the sword skills that tore into him. The woman stumbled back under his assault, fear creeping into her eyes as her sword was knocked from her grasp.

Agrias rushed to her aid as Mateus scored a hit, two of the trident's tines piercing the woman's pauldron and burying into her shoulder. Lavian staggered, crying out in pain, and the demon pulled his weapon back to make the killing blow. Agrias raised her sword, preparing to use her skills despite how close the demon was to Lavian, when her other knight intervened.

Alicia leapt into the air with a resounding cry, clinging to the tattered robes on the demon's back, and plunged her sword into it. Mateus attempted to shrug the woman free, but Alicia held fast, abandoning her long sword to draw its shorter companion blade.

Knelt at the Lucavi's feet, Lavian pulled her own short sword free with her good arm. She lunged forward, burying the blade into the side of the demon's left knee. The creature stumbled, falling to the impaled knee, as Alicia scrambled up its slim back.

Agrias and Zalbag reached the demon as the woman drove her slim sword into its neck to the hilt. Landing a wicked slash across the back of the Lucavi's good leg, Agrias succeeded in bringing it all the way down, as Zalbag plunged a second sword deep into the creature's back.

Mateus gurgled and thrashed for but a moment, before a shockwave knocked all four knights away. They landed roughly a short distance away, as the demon was reduced to a very small stone, which clattered loudly to the floor.

Agrias slowly clambered to her feet, her body aching and breath shallow. A sense of righteous elation held her, and she found she was quite proud of having rid the world of a second demon with the help of the Beoulve knight that stood beside her. Alicia had rushed to Lavian's side, and was already removing the woman's armor to see to her wound.

"You may begin the worshipping now." Zalbag said casually, his gaze locked upon the holy stone.

"Please," Agrias replied, rolling her eyes. "_My_ knights did all the work."

"That they did." Zalbag agreed, and Agrias noticed the look of satisfaction on both Lavian and Alicia's faces. "So, shall we rescue a Queen?"

* * *

Ramza leapt back as Izlude slashed at him, holding his sword in front of him defensively. He cursed under his breath, quickly glancing at Delita and Wiegraf. Taking their cue from Izlude, the unholy duplicates of Teta and Miluda advanced.

"Remember, they're not alive, these are just remnants!" Ramza reminded them, aware of how difficult it would be to face their siblings.

"They seem pretty lifelike to me!" Wiegraf shouted, as his sister drew a very real sword.

Teta grinned maliciously, as wicked claws grew from the tips of her fingers. Delita, unsure of what to do, backed up as well, lowering his sword slightly. Then the Lucavi's minions attacked.

Ramza could no longer keep tabs on the other two knights as Izlude charged at him, though he noticed Wiegraf was immediately knocked to the ground, his head landing at the very edge of the bridge. Ramza's attention was completely on the demon in his friend's form, as Izlude advanced quickly.

The youngest Tingel knight had trained extensively his entire life, and as a swordsman he was nearly a match Ramza. The Beoulve knew this, and was also aware just how Izlude fought. Having been at each other's side for so long, both men knew each other's every weakness, few as they may be. Ramza's sole advantage would have been his skills as a Dark Knight, which he would never bring to bear against Izlude.

Whatever darkness was inside Izlude, however, had no such restraint when it came to Ramza. Izlude came at him mercilessly, putting Ramza completely on the defensive as he sought to avoid seriously injuring his friend. Parrying and deflecting the attacks laid into him, Ramza gave up ground stubbornly, all the while trying to come up with some way to get through to the man he knew.

"Snap out of it!" He pleaded, ducking below a slash intended for his face. "Izlude, I know you're in there."

The brown haired knight came at him with a brutal overhead slash, the force of the blow on Ramza's blade forcing him to roll backward to avoid being knocked to his knees. The Beoulve rose quickly to discover that Izlude hadn't moved, and stared at him blankly.

"Izlude?"

His friend raised one hand, issuing a quick declaration in a tongue that Ramza couldn't understand. No sooner had the words left the demon-knight's mouth than searing agony tore through Ramza's entire frame, nearly bringing him to his knees. Accustomed as he was to the toll a Dark Knight's power took on the body, Ramza was able to shrug off the full effect of the spell.

As Izlude dashed toward him again, Ramza realized he had no hope to defeat his friend. The dark passenger that had clawed its way into his soul had brought with it a knowledge of ancient spells that Ramza could never hope to know, and which he had no way to defend himself against. The only way he could stop Izlude's assault was to kill him, and Ramza refused to even consider that.

Locking his sword with the man's, Ramza moved in close in an attempt to keep Izlude from being able to get a cut in. There was nothing in his expression, and only in the knight's eyes did Ramza see any reaction. Anger, pain, sorrow, and hate all poured from his gaze in a way that didn't seem possible.

"Listen to me! We don't have time for this!"

Izlude responded by shoving forward harder, closing the distance between them even more. It took Ramza a moment to notice the warmth that spread down his side, and it wasn't until he glanced down that he felt the burning sensation. Having yanked the dagger from Ramza's belt, the very dagger that he had given to the Beoulve, Izlude had plunged it deep into his friend's side.

Pushing himself away, Ramza staggered back, biting down on the growing heat as it clawed at his flank. He pulled the stiletto free, letting it fall to the stone along with a small spray of blood. There was no hesitation as Izlude came at him again.

Ignoring his wound as best he could, Ramza fought to keep Izlude's blade from getting inside of his guard. The two men danced back and forth across the bridge, fighting for control of their duel, for what seemed like an eternity wrapped in darkness.

Putting a little distance between them to take a breath, Ramza was quickly hit with another ancient incantation, scarlet tendrils of arcana connecting the two men. The spell seemed to drain the very life force from the Dark Knight, and at the same time invigorated his ensorcelled friend. Ramza decided after that to not risk giving Izlude time to cast another.

They fought at barely arm's length, circling what little room they had on the bridge, as Izlude pushed to try and get Ramza closer to the abyss that lie below. Ramza, in turn, struggled just as hard to stay close to the center. It was a grueling back and forth, with Ramza constantly trying to keep his friend from getting inside his guard.

It didn't take long for weariness and his injuries to effect his movements, and Izlude managed to pierce the tip of his blade into Ramza's shoulder before the Beoulve could parry the thrust. Wincing, Ramza stepped back to realize he had no room, with only a few paces between him and the edge of the bridge.

"You have to fight it." Ramza said, panting. "If you don't… Alma will be lost to us forever…"

A flicker of resignation touched the young knight's tainted gaze, and Ramza dared to hope that he might have finally reached the man he knew. In the blink of an eye, however, the moment passed, and Izlude stepped forward.

Slamming the pommel of his sword against Ramza's lips, Izlude reversed his grip, dragging his blade down hard enough to cut almost cleanly through the Beoulve's breastplate as he fell back. The diagonal gash across his chest wasn't deep, but coupled with his previous injuries and the stars in his eyes from the blow to his face, Ramza couldn't maintain his balance.

He landed hard on the bridge, angled to the side with one arm and his head hanging off the side of the bridge. Ramza lost his grip on his sword with the impact, the weapon sliding a short distance away, as his slashed tunic fell open.

Taurus rolled slowly free from where he had tucked it away after Zalbag departed, landing on the bridge with a dull thud. The moment it fell at Izlude's feet, the Tingel knight cried out in surprise and pain, and Ramza felt his body begin to slide over the edge.

Snaring the lip of the bridge with his uninjured arm, Ramza slipped off, and found he was staring into the infinite darkness below. He hung precariously by one hand, what little strength he had left being sapped by the effort it took to support his weight.

It was only a matter of moments before the burning in his flank would turn into a scorching flame of agony. Gazing into the darkness, Ramza considered simply letting go. He'd lost everything he held dear already, what point was there in clinging to life? Alma, Meliadoul, and now Izlude had been swallowed up by the darkness that had invaded Ivalice, and perhaps he should share their fate. It was what he deserved.

Feeling his grip on the bridge falter, Ramza closed his eyes, trying to remember what it had been like to see them smile, to laugh. It was difficult, surrounded by darkness and through a red haze of pain, but he managed to bring to mind Meliadoul's face as he best remembered it: sleeping next to him with the sun on her smile. He didn't even notice when his strength finally failed him.

* * *

**Author's Note:** The End.

* * *

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**Real Author's Note:** I had originally planned on having a few paragraphs more at the end of this chapter, but when I got to that point above I decided what better cliffhanger is there than pretty much hanging from a cliff?

This chapter is definitely darker and edgier. We've got reanimated corpses fighting their loved ones, an Obi-Wan/Anakin style duel with no high ground, the word rape being used, plenty of blood, and the main character potentially _dying_.

I also wanted to make a note of something here too. When Izlude fought Wiegraf it wasn't that Izlude was weaker when it came to swordplay, but Wiegraf had sword skills he could use. That's a pretty big gap in a fight. When it comes down to it, Izlude's a pretty badass swordsman, as was evident here. The spells he used in this chapter are based on some from a different game, and if you can remember him casting them, and have played the game they came from, then you'll know what they are when Izlude appears in the final chapter.

So did anyone expect Izlude going darkside? I figured that might catch people by surprise.

I really, really enjoyed writing this chapter. The dialogue was one I had looked forward to from the beginning, and the exchange between Zalbag and Agrias, which just kinda rolled out, is probably one of my favorites in the story. I've been building them toward a potential pairing slowly, because I feel it's right up Agrias' alley. I'd figure being how she is, she would go for a fellow knight over anyone else.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I packed a lot of action and dialogue into it. Did Ramza fall? What happened to Delita and Wiegraf? Will _anyone_ make it to Alma in time? Is Hashmal gonna have to seppuku himself again to bring back Altima? Guess we'll see.

**Vegeta the 3rd:** Some of you have a habit of actually predicting some things I've planned out from the beginning of the story. I won't say what exactly those things are, but yeah you'll probably notice them when they come. As for the Lucavi... don't count them all out of the fight just yet. A lot can still happen. Good music choices, and I need to download them onto my flash drive for when I write.

**Gambit Knight:** Oh, you'll see a pretty good chunk of Olan's group and Rattletrap before the end, and you'll see them again _very_ soon.

**Jimbobob8675309: **I completely forgot all about the Dissidia remixes, and I loved them. I grabbed a whole bunch last weekend. Thanks.

Finally, if anyone wants to know some of the songs I use when writing, it's a little bit all over the place. I'll include a small list.

Skillet: Awake and Alive

Skillet: Hero - Legion of Doom Remix

The Prodigy: Voodoo People - Pendulum Remix

Thousand Foot Krutch: Welcome to the Masquerade

Breaking Benjamin: Blow Me Away

Seether Ft. Amy Lee: Broken

TobyMac: Ignition (Was actually on repeat during the RamzavsElmdore chapter.)

And pretty much every song by Nubbinownz has been played while I write more laid back chapters. If you haven't listened to him, and like the style of music he makes, I suggest checking it out on Youtube or his Newgrounds portal. If it's a style you like, then you'll absolutely love it.


	29. The Fall of Faith

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Fall of Faith**

* * *

Ramza floated in darkness, curious why his body hadn't yet plummeted to the unfathomable depths below. He could not be dead, of that he was certain; the aches and wounds all over his body made sure the knight was aware that he was very much alive. For a moment, in a delirium of pain and loss, Ramza thought that the darkness around him had taken physical form, gently holding him aloft to prolong his suffering. Hearing a grunt of exertion above his head, the Beoulve looked up, and instantly his mind cleared.

"Izlude?"

"I said to _avoid _the edge." His friend replied, his lips a thin line.

The knight lay atop the bridge, one hand tightly gripping the back of Ramza's tunic. Izlude scrabbled for purchase, doing his best to stay on the stone walkway while trying to pull Ramza's dead weight back up.

"You kind of forced me to it…" Ramza replied, shaking his head to clear more of the fog from his mind.

"Give me your hand, quickly." Izlude instructed, his hold on the thin cloth shirt faltering.

Reaching up with his good arm, Ramza grabbed tightly onto the other man's wrist, and once their arms were locked Izlude tried again to hoist him up. The Beoulve could see the strain on his friends face, and without thinking he quickly unfastened his chest armor, wincing with the effort it required from his injured shoulder. Letting the breastplate slide off of him and into the black sea below, Ramza snagged the lip of the bridge with his injured arm.

It was much less effort for Izlude to pull him up without the extra weight of his armor, and the two men collapsed side by side a moment later, panting and bathed in the torchlight. Ramza closed his eyes, trying to push the agony out of his awareness, and when he opened them he discovered he was on his feet, supported on both sides.

"Hey," Izlude said, looking him in the eye. "Don't go to sleep. You hit your head, and you might not wake up."

Glancing to the left and right, Ramza saw that Wiegraf and Delita were holding him up, supporting his weight between them. Delita had a peculiar set of scratches across his face, where he had been raked by the claws of something. Ramza couldn't immediately recall what happened. He strained to remember what was going on, and it only took a moment for it all to flood back into his head.

"We have to get to Alma!" He cried, lunging forward and forcing Izlude to catch him before he tumbled to the stone.

It wasn't a moment after the words had left his lips that the entire world seemed to tremble. The bridge beneath his feet shook violently, a cacophony of sound rising up from the darkness below them. The surreal world around the men seemed to vibrate, each small quake echoing throughout the large black chamber.

"It's too late for that." Izlude said quietly, forcing Ramza back into the other men's arms. "The Gate has been opened, and we can't stop them now."

"What gate?" Wiegraf asked, an edge to his voice.

"I'll explain later," The Tingel knight replied, glancing in the direction Vormav had departed. "We need to get out of here. Quickly."

From the darkness further down the bridge, the sound of claws scraping stone reached the knights. It was followed immediately by dozens of unearthly voices, each strange and inhuman, as whatever their company was began the trek across the stone. Ramza found himself practically carried across the bridge, and he struggled weakly to break free of Wiegraf and Delita. He couldn't leave Alma with those monsters, and he didn't care what Izlude said. It couldn't be too late. It simply couldn't. She had been right there, less than ten steps from him. His struggle meant little, however, when he had hardly the strength to stand on his own.

Then they were back in the corridor, the sounds of their pursuers met by even more disturbing noises from the abyss below. Wiegraf snatched another torch from the wall as small chunks of stone and dust fell from the ceiling, the entire world in upheaval.

"Get back, I'll seal the passage." Izlude ordered, pushing the other men further into the corridor.

Ramza stared blankly at the man as he spoke a quiet incantation, both hands raised toward the ceiling. The resulting cascade of rock and debris was impressive, but barely audible over the sound of the world collapsing around them.

* * *

Agrias shouldered the door open, praying that she would find her charge unharmed. The Holy Knight had barely made it into the room when Ovelia pounced on her, wrapping both arms around the older woman with a strength that caught Agrias off guard. The Queen stepped back, smiling broadly as Zalbag and the Lionsguard entered.

"I knew you would come for me." She said with relief, her gaze darting between them.

"Your Majesty, are you hurt?" Agrias asked, gently taking the woman's shoulders.

"No, they did not harm me." Ovelia replied, shaking her head. "But Alma, my friend, they have her somewhere in the temple."

"Ramza and Delita are rescuing her now." Zalbag assured her, smiling. "We should leave before-"

The knight was cut off by a terrible cracking sound, and suddenly the earth came to life. High above the rest of the city, in the tower, the effects of the earthquake were more profound than far below. The room shook and rocked, and Agrias was afraid for a moment that the entire tower would collapse. After the initial quake subsided, Agrias took the Queen's hand, towing her along and rushing out of the room.

"What was that?" Lavian asked, as they made their way to the tower stairs.

"I have no idea, but let's not wait around and find out." Agrias replied tersely, taking the steps as quickly as possible.

The structure continued to shake violently, knocking them from one wall to another as they descended. It was treacherous footing, and one slip could mean a tumble down the circular stairs that would be disastrous. Agrias moved fast, reaching the bottom of the tower as the sounds of other buildings crumbling to the earth reached them.

Though they were in less danger now, Agrias wasn't that relieved. Whatever was happening was not a force of nature. The trembling beneath them seemed to intensify as they rushed through the halls of the temple. As much as Agrias wanted to make her way to the catacombs to aid Ramza and the others, her top priority was the safety of the Queen, and so she instead led them toward the front of the cathedral, dust swimming in the air around them.

As they rushed through another long hallway, Agrias was forced to leap back as a door was thrown open not a handful of paces ahead of her. The Holy Knight reached for her blade, only to stay her hand as the second party exploded inside, an injured Ramza supported between Wiegraf and Delita. Izlude slammed the heavy door shut, and it wasn't until then that the men noticed Agrias.

"What happened?" She asked, frowning at Ramza's condition.

"Later." Delita said, and Ovelia gasped in surprise at his state.

Four shallow slashes ran diagonally across his face, forcing the man to close on eye to keep the trickle of blood out. The wounds weren't deep, but they looked painful, and there would very prominent scarring. For a man that had gone through his life with few marks of battle, it was jarring to see them.

"Alma?" Zalbag asked, a hint of worry slipping into his voice.

Izlude shook his head slowly, closing his eyes and taking a shallow breath. Ramza's head hung, his body limp, and if his eyes hadn't been open Agrias would have thought he was unconscious. Aside from his small breaths, there was no sign at all that the man was alive.

"They're coming." Wiegraf said, urging them to move on.

At that moment something slammed against the thick door they had entered through, snarling in a tongue that Agrias couldn't recognize. Without another word they ran down the hall, each of them except Ramza glancing back as they rushed to escape the trembling temple.

They'd reached the next hall when the door burst open, and Agrias spun, allowing Zalbag to continue ahead with the Queen, as the Lionsguard came to her side. What had followed the others from the depths of the catacombs was like nothing she had seen before. They were all claws and sinew and teeth, a dozen creatures straight from a man's worst nightmare. They scrabbled quickly across the stone, making their way toward the women, and Agrias was shocked to notice that they seemed to have no skin. Raw red muscle stood exposed to the air, flexing and contracting as they crawled across the walls and floor.

"Help me brace the door." She ordered, rushing through the portal to the next corridor only to discover her knights hadn't moved.

"That won't stop them." Lavian said calmly, her cool gaze locked onto her partner's.

"No, it won't." Alicia agreed with a sigh, before turning to glance at Agrias. "We'll hold them here. Get Her Majesty to safety."

"Absolutely not!" Agrias shot back, her tone sharp. "I won't leave you to-"

"Agrias!" Lavian shouted, drawing her sword smoothly. "Go, damn you. We'll keep them busy and catch up with you after."

Agrias found she was frozen, staring at the Lionsguard as the nightmare creatures scampered toward them. Lavian was lying about catching up with her, of course, anyone could see that. Agrias knew as they did that the door wouldn't hold for more than a short while, and the demons would catch up to Ovelia and the others in no time at all, but She couldn't just let the women stay behind, offering themselves as lambs to the slaughter. However if he creatures reached everyone else, there wouldn't be another day to fight for.

"Go!" Both women cried as one, standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the door.

"Fighting alongside you was the greatest honor of my life." Agrias said quietly, and the women simply smiled at her.

The Holy Knight slammed the door and locked it, sprinting down the hall toward Ovelia and the others. She thought she'd lost the capacity for tears after all she had seen and done, but as the sounds of combat filtered after her through the door, Agrias found it difficult to see.

* * *

Sword drawn and eyes scanning the street, Izlude waited tensely with the others for Agrias and her knights to catch up. The woman had stopped to assess their pursuers, and the young Tingel sincerely hoped she hadn't opted to stay behind and fight. Izlude knew some of the unholy beasts that would be after them, Agrias did not.

He knew the creatures for the same reason that he now was aware of arcane secrets that no living man possessed. There were many things Izlude had recently learned, and though he wished he hadn't, he would use the knowledge as best he could. The taint upon his soul was washed clean the moment Taurus had fallen at his feet, dispelling the dark passenger as well as the remnants of the dead that Shemhazai had called forth. Yet, even though he was certain that his mind and body were his own once more, some of the knowledge carried by the beast remained.

Izlude wasn't sure why the holy stone had affected him so, but he had a theory that it may have had something to do with the stone itself being clean. Taurus had birthed the first Lucavi that Izlude and Ramza had faced, and perhaps in banishing it from the world they had stripped its influence from the stone it had used to make the journey.

Turning sharply as Agrias swept out of the temple, he breathed a sigh of relief, until he realized that her knights were not at her side. Apparently Ovelia and Zalbag picked up on this as well, for they stared at Agrias with questioning eyes.

"Where are Lavian and Alicia?" The Queen asked quietly, wringing her hands.

"They chose to stay behind to allow us to escape." Agrias replied, her voice strained, and Izlude could see a streak through the dust on her cheek.

"No," Ovelia said quickly, darting to the woman. "We can't leave them! They need our help!"

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty." Agrias said solemnly.

The Holy Knight took the woman's hand and attempted to pull her away from the temple, only to have Ovelia yank free from her grasp, and turn back to stare into the building. Agrias closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to calm herself.

"They knew what they were asking." Wiegraf said, his voice rushed. "If we don't move now we'll only be doing them a dishonor."

Ovelia nodded once, slowly, before she allowed Agrias to guide her away from the shaking, crumbling temple. Izlude fell into the rear of the procession, as they made their way through what was quickly becoming the ruins of Murond. The earth still trembled violently beneath them, making it seem as though the entire city was caught in choppy seas. All around homes and buildings collapsed, debris and dust scattering through the once beautiful holy city.

They rushed through the streets as fast as possible with Ramza carried between Delita and Wiegraf, dodging falling debris and cracking stone beneath their feet. It felt as though the entire world was collapsing in on itself, and Izlude hoped that wasn't the case. He didn't know what would happen now that the seal to the Lucavi's realm was broken.

The outer limits of the city were visible when a tremendous crack drew Izlude's attention, the sound rising above the overall chaos around them, from behind. The knight spun just as the ground erupted, chunks of stone and a cloud of dirt flying in every direction.

He knew what came from beneath the city, and his heart immediately fell as it climbed out of the hole it had tore up through. The behemoth was enormous, towering over Izlude by almost half his body length, and it roared in triumph as it breathed free air.

The demon hunched forward, moving like nothing any of the assembled humans had ever seen. It lumbered slowly forward, as a wave of lesser abominations swarmed out of the hole. Izlude knew its initially slow progression wouldn't last. Once it got moving, there was little that could stop it.

"Go!" He shouted, turning and urging the rest of them forward, only to halt instantly.

The road ahead was blocked. Massive stones and mortar had fallen into the street when the beast had broken through, forming what may as well have been a solid wall. There was no way they would be able to traverse it before the swarm and the monstrosity were on them.

Another deafening roar drew Izlude's attention once more, as he spun to face the creature. The assembled knights and their Queen backed slowly toward the wall of debris, swords drawn and faces pale. The beast before them was no Lucavi, simply a dumb brute of a demon, but Izlude knew they couldn't stop it. Dozens of his smaller ilk scampered around the behemoth, and they would tear the knights to pieces before they could hope to bring it down.

Then it was moving, lumbering forward, and Izlude knew what would come next. The beast picked up speed, its heavy tread and thick clawed feet gouging the stone as it charged for him. He stood at the front of the others, knuckles white around the hilt of his sword. They couldn't win, but at the very least he would kill this juggernaut, and dispatch as many of them as possible before they were overwhelmed.

The behemoth was only a short distance away, roaring in anticipation, when Izlude heard a peculiar noise. It was a sound of metal grinding on metal, a distinct rattling, and suddenly a large metal form landed in front of him with a loud crash. Izlude could only think of it as a massive man, made entirely of steel, and a moment later the beast struck the metal golem.

Izlude was sure that, despite the mechanical man's size, it would be bulled completely over by the larger demon. The two collided roughly, and to his surprise the metal contraption only slid backwards a short distance, both hands gripping the deformed shoulders of the beast.

After the initial impact halted the monster, Izlude's steel savior twisted at the waist with a loud grinding of gears, and hurled the demon away with enough force to lift it from the ground. The behemoth flew through the air, crashing through a nearby home and practically leveling the structure.

That impressive display of power was punctuated by a bolt of blue and white, as lightning rained down upon the horde of man sized demons that rushed toward them, close enough that Izlude could feel the heat on his face. The knight turned, his gaze travelling inexorably skyward. What he saw caused him to forget all about the approaching swarm.

A ship composed of wood and steel drifted through the air over the wall of debris, held aloft by some magic he couldn't comprehend, and Izlude's mouth fell open. He watched in awe as Celia and Lede launched themselves over the side of the airship, plummeting to the street below and rolling lightly to their feet.

Then the demons were on them, and he could spare no more attention to the ship. The metal man barreled through the creatures with little effort, snatching one up before it reached Izlude and flinging it into several others. The twin assassins moved beside it, and the Tingel knight quickly dashed ahead to join them.

He fought without thinking, only noticing in his peripheral that Agrias, Delita, and Wiegraf had joined them. They grouped around the construct, using it as a shield to keep most of the creatures at bay. Magic buffeted the demons from above, from what Izlude assumed to be Valmafra's work, and the humans took such a toll so quickly that the horde was forced to fall back some.

Izlude glanced back to see Zalbag scaling a rope ladder, Ramza's weight supported under one arm, as the man's younger brother struggled upward through his injuries. Quickly the rest of them retreated to the ladder, and began scrambling up it. Izlude was the last to remain on the ground, standing between Celia and the metal giant.

"Hurry." The woman said, nodding to the ladder.

"I'll go last." Izlude replied firmly.

"Chivalry is wasted on us, but it's cute, now get up the ladder."

Izlude hesitated a moment longer before he did as she said, sheathing his blade and clambering up. He was halfway to the ship when he glanced down to see the mechanical golem force back one last handful of attacking demons, and then it turned to the ship.

Celia and Lede grabbed tightly to its legs as it reached up, and fired its hand upward. Izlude followed the steel hand with his eyes as it reached the side of the ship, clamping tightly. A length of metal rope trailed the appendage, and instantly the two women and one metal man ascended. Izlude's mouth was agape as he watched them rise past him, one of the women winking before they reached the extended hand.

Scaling the rest of the rope ladder, Izlude tumbled over the side, panting. Olan helped him to his feet, and the knight quickly glanced around. The ship was like nothing he had seen before, and the others held the same expression he was sure he did. Even Ramza was frowning thoughtfully, his brother supporting him, as he gazed at the airship.

"What is this thing?" Delita asked, as he sat to allow Ovelia to examine his face.

"Welcome to the Valefor." Mustadio said with a grin, turning the helm as the ship began to rise.

"Damn, boy, what happened to you?"

Izlude hadn't noticed Gaff and Cid until the Dark Knight's booming voice rose from where Ramza stood, as he looked the young Beoulve over. Izlude had no idea where the rest of them had managed to find a flying ship, but he couldn't help but appreciate the vessel that had just saved him.

"Wait," Cid said, his gaze travelling over them. "Where is the Lionsguard? Weren't they with you?"

"They're gone." Agrias replied quickly, staring at the deck.

A long silence followed as everyone let that sink in for a moment. Izlude's mind continued on that track to include the other person who hadn't returned with them, and he felt his stomach knot up. He noticed the same thought on the faces of several of the others, though they all had the tact not to ask the question in front of Izlude and the Beoulves.

Izlude cleared all thoughts of Alma from his mind. He couldn't think of her, not now. Deep down he knew what had happened when that seal had been broken, but he refused to let his mind reach the conclusion that she was gone forever.

"You all need to see this." Wiegraf said from the edge of the ship.

Everyone but Mustadio and the mechanical golem rushed to the side of the Valefor, and most of them gasped at what they saw. Murond was crumbling, collapsing in on itself, but even from high above they could see the scores of creatures roaming the streets of the city.

More shocking than that was what Wiegraf pointed at. From where the temple had once stood another ship rose into the air, this one easily three times the size of the one they stood upon. It hovered a short distance above the rubble, and Izlude could only imagine what else would be unearthed now.

Izlude's gaze travelled toward the coast not far from the peninsula leading to the city, as did the others, and they were all silent as they watched. The sea was surging forward, slowly engulfing the coastline and proceeding inland. Murond itself rested on a rather high plateau, well above sea level. The seal being broken was bringing the Lucavi's dream into their reality, and Ivalice was to be ravaged by it.

"Just like what happened to the Fara Church, a thousand years ago." Agrias noted quietly. "What does it mean?"

"It means Ajora lives once more," Ramza said, sitting against one of the ship's masts. "And it means I failed…"

* * *

**Author's Note:** Here were reach the end of the canon game. Except, well, it looks like the Lucavi succeeded. Ajora has been resurrected and the gateway between the two worlds is open. Yeah, things are definitely not looking up. Mel and Alma are now the core of the evil that Ramza has to face, and Lavian and Alicia... well you can guess what happened to them.

I included how Izlude was freed of his darkness to make sure people caught it, and there is a lot he learned because of the demon. This plays a part in what Izlude will become in the very end, in a positive way.

I told you all that you'd be seeing Olan and Company, and Rattletrap, very soon. Our favorite steel golem will serve a role later as well. I must say that I really, really enjoy writing the twins. Deadpan snarkers with a very seductive nature. They're just fun to include. Reviews appreciated, as they're great motivation, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

**Vegeta the 3rd:** Seems like you worried about Lavian and Alicia a chapter early. I wanted to give them a heroic send off and at the same time make it clear that by the end of this story people _will_ die. Possibly some that you would never expect. As for Shemhazai, yes, she is a monumental bitch. She cared only for one thing: The revival of Ajora, which brought together Morrigan and Ajora, their original alter-egos. So basically Alma and Mel are sharing three distinct personalities, with their own lying mostly dormant. That has to strain on them a bit I'd think. Finally, it seems you were pretty accurate about your 'call to arms' idea, as that is what I'd been planning on from the very beginning. It's not gonna be Ramza and Company versus a handful of Lucavi to save the world. It's going to Ivalice versus everything the Lucavi can throw at them.


	30. The Rise of Doubt

**Part Three: The Rising Abyss**

* * *

_Once again my world was torn asunder_

_All that I loved stripped from me_

_Darkness threatened to overtake Ivalice_

_I returned to the land of my birth_

_To prepare for The End_

* * *

**Chapter Thirty: The Rise of Doubt**

* * *

The night was so quiet, the air so still, that it was hard to believe the world might be coming to an end. A half moon bathed Igros castle in blue and white light, and the irony of finding shelter once more within its walls was not lost on Delita. He stared up at the castle, recalling that once it had been teeming with life, and realized that it was his fault such life had left the seat of the Northern Sky behind. Now only a handful of men and women remained as sparse population, most of them allies of the Beoulve that had grown up there with him.

It was that Beoulve that Deltia sought this evening, and he was certain he knew where to find him. Descending the stone steps that ran alongside the small waterfall that formed a moat around the castle, he was aware how loudly the water was in this silent night. He reached the bottom before spotting Ramza, standing exactly where Delita expected him to be.

The Beoulve stood atop a small walkway that bridged the gap of the water, staring absently into the falls. The two of them had sat there often as children, in the company of the two girls that meant the most to them, their feet dangling above the churning man made river below. It came as no surprise that Ramza would find some solace here, and Delita only hoped he could do the same.

The Dark Knight did not even glance at his childhood friend as Delita approached, his gaze fixated on the tumbling falls. For several long moments the only sound was that of the sloshing water, as both knights remained lost in thought. When Ramza finally spoke, his voice was hardly a whisper, barely audible over the gentle cascade.

"I never thought I'd set foot here again." He said, his expression devoid of emotion.

"Neither did I." Delita replied with a sigh. "The last time we stood here, we were different men."

"We both had something to live for, back then."

Delita's gaze snapped to the blonde knight, eyes narrowing. He recalled last seeing the falls, as the sun was beginning to set to the west. It was the last time he'd embraced his sister in life, and the moment had since been a defense against the darkness he'd perpetuated. He knew all too well the turmoil in Ramza's heart, but it was shock to see his friend so bleak.

"So that's it, then?" Delita asked, somewhat ashamed at his tone. "You're just going to surrender? You're going to let the Lucavi win?"

"They've already won." The young warrior said calmly, casting a distant gaze skyward. "I let them take the two people most precious to me. I allowed them free reign over all of Ivalice. Why should I be allowed to live with such sin?"

"You're a fool." Delita said, growling. "You fought valiantly, and you still will. If you believe I'm going to stand idly by and let you plummet into the depths of self destruction, you must be out of-"

"Lionel is gone, Delita." Ramza said abrubtly, catching the Regent off guard.

"What?" He replied, eyes wide. "The castle?"

"The entire kingdom. Reports came in this evening. Zirekile Falls now empties directly into the sea, which has consumed everything."

"You mean Goug, Zaland, and even the Castle at Lionel itself?"

"Wiped away, all of them. We don't even know if anyone managed to escape before the sea swallowed them up, and the Lucavi are pushing north."

"We have troops throughout Lesalia and Zeltennia, we _can_ hold them."

"For how long? Every day more of their legions swarm out from the depths. It's only a matter of time before there are more Lucavi in our world than theirs."

"Then we force them out. We drive them back, into the sea, and destroy them. You've fought them, stood toe to toe against them, and together we can-"

"I failed, Delita." Ramza replied, closing his eyes. "It's too late now."

Snarling, Delita sidled away from the Beoulve, and drew the sword upon his hip. Without warning or a word, he whipped the finely honed blade toward Ramza, seeking to cleave his head from his shoulders. In the same instant the Dark Knight's eyes snapped open, and he threw himself away from the cut, rolling lithely across the ground.

Ramza was on his feet in an instant, fire in his eyes and his own obsidian blade drawn. Looking at his stance one could have never guessed that he was still recovering from the injuries he'd sustained in Murond. Delita gave him no time to contemplate the sudden attack, driving ahead with a wicked overhead slash.

The Beoulve parried the strike, matching the slightly taller man's strength and deflecting the blow, before ramming his shoulder into Delita's chest. Neither man wore armor, their tunics little protection against even a glancing cut, and the impact jarred Delita into retreating a few steps. Ramza was on him in an instant, striking the edge of his old friend's sword hard enough to nearly knock it clean from his grasp. A tight fist clenched Delita's collar, as Ramza stepped inside his guard, elbowing the knight's arm further to prevent Delita from bringing his sword to bear.

"What the hell are you doing?" Ramza asked with a snarl, the edge of his black blade pressed against Delita's neck.

"I apologize," Delita replied with a wry smile. "I thought you were wishing for a swift death, and I sought to oblige you."

Ramza glared hard at him for a moment, before he released his hold and stepped back. The Dark Knight stared at his bare sword for a beat, his gaze slowly travelling up to lock onto Delita's.

"I suppose I was wrong." Delita continued, sheathing his sword. "You _do_ have some fight left in you."

"What's your point?" Ramza asked, growling and turning away.

"Stop drowning in remorse. You're still alive, and you still have the chance to set things right. We both do." Delita said, sighing. "If anything, I'm to blame for this. I was blind to the Lucavi's plot. Despite my spies and informants, I knew nothing of their real goal. I tore this country apart, Ramza, in my own ambition and self righteousness. Had I heeded you, trusted you, none of this would have happened."

Ramza glanced sideways at him, raising one eyebrow. He seemed to chew on that for a moment, his eyes searching the landscape around them. Delita realized, quite surprisingly, that his words hadn't come out as a well constructed lie designed to sway Ramza to his side, as he had intended them to be. Without even meaning to, he'd just been truly honest with both of them for the first time since they had been reunited.

"I'll gather the others in the morning." Ramza said finally, his voice a rough whisper. "We'll decide then who wants to fight, and who wishes to be free of war."

* * *

Zalbag felt like a ghost drifting aimlessly as he wandered the halls of the castle. Upon losing most of the Hokuten core army at Bethla Garrison, he had been forced to retreat with his remaining knights to Bervenia, alongside Ramza and his small but loyal company. He'd been surprised to learn that, aside from clearing out almost all of Igros, Delita and the Southern Sky had kept everything intact. Perhaps it had been the young Hyral's inner child he had been preserving when he had opted not to raze the castle and surrounding city to the ground, Zalbag couldn't say, but he was glad to see his home in one piece.

After departing from his room, Zalbag wasn't certain just what he was looking for. He'd been unable to sleep, incapable of turning off his mind and letting the cool night air lull him. So he'd set out through the halls of Igros, touching every wall he passed, and remembering what it had been like to see the fort teeming with life.

It wasn't until he arrived at a closed door, dim yellow light spilling into the hall, that he realized what he'd was after. It wasn't solitude and his memories he sought, but companionship instead. The Arc Knight hesitated at the portal for several long moments, absently stroking his chin, before he finally rapped lightly on the heavy door. Agrias' voice was muffled when she answered.

"Yes?"

Zalbag shouldered the door open slowly, a bedside candle casting dancing light over the blonde woman. Agrias stood at the only window of the chambers, her hair unbraided and falling down the length of her back. It looked better this way, in Zalbag's opinion, but he had never spoken of it. It took him a moment to realize that the woman was wearing only a shift, the bottom hem of the tunic falling just below her rear, leaving her bare legs exposed to the cool breeze that drifted in.

"My apologies," He said quickly, retreating back out of the room. "I didn't realize you were preparing for bed, I shouldn't have disturbed you."

"Wait," Agrias said, glancing at him over her shoulder, and he swore he heard a slight hitch in her voice. "Don't leave."

"As you wish." Zalbag replied, stepping inside and closing the door with a nod.

The eldest living Beoulve made his way slowly to the window, pausing only to retrieve one of the finely woven blankets from the bed. The night was brisk, and without a word the knight draped the covering across Agrias' shoulders, before moving to stand beside her.

"We'd met here before, did you know that?" Agrias said, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

"Is that so?" Zalbag asked, glancing over at the woman's face.

"I was a young girl then," She began, her gaze distant. "Visiting the castle with my father. It's strange that I should remember meeting you, when little of that day stayed with me."

"Well, I do make quite an impression."

"You fell off of a Chocobo, actually." Agrias noted with a light chuckle.

"Oh," Zalbag said, recalling finally that first meeting. "That's right. Lord Oaks helped me rein the beast in, and asked me to take him to see my father. I'm surprised you remember that."

"It just stuck." Agrias replied, shrugging.

They fell into a companionable silence, content to simply stare out across the moonlit grounds, for several minutes. Zalbag found his mind gloriously clear, the clutter and concerns of an hour prior dispelled. It was peaceful, high above the city, and more so in the presence of the Holy Knight.

"Lavian and Alicia always wanted to come here."

Zalbag's gaze slipped over to the woman, and he noticed now the damp trail down her cheek. She'd been crying silently, grieving for the women who would never be coming back from their rescue of the Queen. Zalbag stared at her silently, uncertain of what to say.

"It was one of the few castles they'd been unable to see, and now… they'll never be able to."

Zalbag frowned, slipping one arm around the woman's shoulder. That gesture, as innocent as it was, pushed Agrias over the edge. Her breath catching in her throat, her tears came hard, as she turned into Zalbag's arms, the blanket falling to the floor. She wept softly, her face pressed against the man's chest, as Zalbag simply held fast to her shoulders.

It didn't take long for Agrias to gain some control over herself, and though she was still crying, her body was no longer wracked with sobs. The woman clung to Zalbag's waist tenaciously, breathing deeply against his tunic.

"I shouldn't have let them stay." She whispered, her breath ragged. "They deserved better from me, and I…"

"It's not your fault." Zalbag said, forcing the woman's face up with two fingers beneath her chin. "Lavian and Alicia did what they knew to be right and just, and they would not wish you to cast blame upon yourself."

"I've done… horrible things…" Agrias said, inhaling slowly and pressing her forehead against his chest.

"We all have." Zalbag replied quietly, guiding Agrias toward her bed.

She moved sluggishly, weary and emotionally drained, and collapsed onto the bed once she reached it. Zalbag let her move comfortably onto her side, tactfully averting his eyes as her shift rode up slightly, and retrieved the blanket from the floor. Draping it over her, he intended to let her rest and grieve, but was halted before he could leave by a vice grip on his wrist.

"Stay, please." Agrias said, her eyes tightly closed. "This is one night I don't wish to be alone…"

Zalbag hesitated for only a moment before lifting the blanket and slipping onto the sheets. Agrias lie not far from him, her cheeks finally beginning to dry, and it took only a few moments for the woman to fall into a deep sleep. Zalbag was still somewhat restless, but no longer did his mind run away with itself. He calmly watched the woman for some time as she rested, and it wasn't until she slid against him, clinging tightly to him in reflex, that sleep finally claimed him.

* * *

The sun was still below the horizon when everyone has gathered in what once had been Prince Larg's study. Delita, seated at the desk the leader of the Northern Sky had claimed, watched calmly as the others pulled chairs over the large table that lined one wall. It seemed, aside from Ovelia, the only one not present was Wiegraf, which wasn't a surprise. Once everyone was comfortable, the regent stood, glancing back at the Dark Knight who stood in the doorway to the balcony behind him.

"I apologize for making you all wake so early, but I promise it was for a good reason." Delita said, sighing. "By now you've probably heard that Lionel has fallen. Preliminary reports are saying that the Lucavi have begun to push north, further into Ivalice, and it's only a matter of time before they overrun all of Lesalia as well."

There was a long silence, as each of the men and women gathered fell into their own thoughts. Delita let them ponder his words for the moment, as he paced slowly behind the desk.

"Were there… any survivors?" Mustadio asked sheepishly, as Olan placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Delita shot a glance back at Ramza, unsure how to respond. Most of the information had come from the Dark Knight, and in all honestly neither of them had any idea if anyone had made it out of the province at all.

"We don't know yet." Ramza replied calmly. "There's always a chance your father left Goug before the gate was opened, but if he was there when the sea rushed in…"

Mustadio nodded solemnly, as Ramza walked fully into the room. Delita took a step back, his eyes on his oldest friend as the man scanned the expressions of the others.

"I've been told a similar gate has been opened in Orbonne, as well as a small convent south of Limberry. The sea has swallowed Murond, but the Lucavi and their forces have been swarming out of those other locations, and are massing an army. Limberry Castle is under siege as we speak."

"What's the plan then?" Izlude asked, leaning back in his chair.

"It's my fault that demons tread on our soil, and I cannot ask you to fight this battle." Ramza began, his expression cold. "Delita and I are gathering what forces we can muster to form a final resistance to the Lucavi's advance."

"Ramza," Zalbag began, sighing. "You're a noble man, and I could not ask for a better brother, but sometimes you're quite dense. Of course we'll stand with you."

"You need only tell us where to do so." Agrias agreed, glancing sideways at the eldest Beoulve sitting beside her.

"Besides," Izlude said, smirking. "You're sure to get yourself killed without me there to watch out for you."

"Are you certain? There's no telling how many the Lucavi have dragged to the surface." Ramza asked, frowning at the gathered warriors.

"All the more reason you'll need all of us, boy." Gaff shot back gruffly, clapping Cid on the shoulder. "Though I don't know how well this one will be able to handle all the excitement."

Ignoring the jab, Orlandu stood, his gaze travelling over the other knights around him. He absently stroked his chin, eyes narrowed and mind hard at work.

"Even with all of us, and Delita's forces, we may not be enough to hold the demons at bay."

"I still have friends in Riovanes." Valmafra said casually. "I can petition them for aid as well."

"There's also the remaining Hokuten, and we could send someone to Bervenia to speak with the men there." Olan added. "They've followed us into battle before, after all."

"I've been trying to outfit the Valefor with some weaponry, and I have something else I'd like to work on. I'll need Olan's help though, and one of the Holy Stones." Mustadio said, his attention on the astrologist.

"If Olan is willing, then of course. Whatever you need." Ramza answered, crossing both of his arms in front of his chest.

"What of you, Beowulf?" Cid asked, his concern for the man and his lover plain. "You've no obligation to fight this war, and you're more than welcome to retire to safety with Reis. Your aid and information has done more than we could have ever asked of you."

The former Templar looked over at Reis, and for a moment it seemed as though they were speaking silently. He finally nodded to her, taking the woman's hand gently, and to the surprise of everyone in the room it was Reis, who many had believed to be mute, who spoke. Her voice was soft and throaty, almost raspy in the silent room.

"Our fate shall be the same as the rest of Ivalice, and we will not walk away from this threat. I may have… allies I can turn to."

"It's settled then." Delita said finally, aware that not all of the eyes on him were friendly. "I shall begin to gather the Nanten forces, and what allies we still have."

Delita paused, his gaze falling, before he stepped around the desk to move closer to Ramza's comrades.

"We may have been enemies before, some of us, but the threat to our way of life is very real. I want to… thank you all for being able to put aside all of my transgressions and offer your support."

Wordlessly, they began to leave, as Delita sat back at the desk. Ramza had retired to the balcony, content to spend the morning buried in his thoughts. It wasn't until everyone else had left that Izlude approached the desk, and leaned heavy on the thick wood.

"I'll make this clear for you." He began calmly, his gaze cold. "We don't trust you, but we know what must be done. We're here for Ramza, so you should be thanking him for giving you the chance to make things right."

On that note the young Tingel left, and Delita turned his attention to the balcony behind him. Ramza leaned against the stone railing, his gaze focused on the sun as it rose above the horizon.

* * *

As the sun began its morning journey across the sky, peeking above the horizon to dispel the night, Morrigan found her gaze inexorably drawn to it. There was a strange sense of familiarity in the sunrise, and the feeling that she was not alone in her sudden fascination with the dawning light.

The woman shook her head to clear it, forcing her gaze to fall to the ground below the recently constructed tower. The plains leading to Bethla Garrison sprawled out beneath her, and distant memories of the fortress and her host's time within it crept into her mind. For some reason the Lucavi had been unable to fully purge the soul that had granted her passage into this world, and Morrigan was uncertain why.

Broken memories and stirring emotions had troubled her for days, as she had pushed the lesser creatures summoned to Ivalice to complete the massive spire. They had performed admirably under her ruthless pressure, constructing a tower in days where it should have required weeks. Fear was a great motivator.

Upon finishing the work, most of Altima's minions had been dismissed, leaving only Morrigan and a handful of her kin within the walls of the fort. Even among those of her ilk, Shemhazai was separate; Important. The demon had locked herself away in the tower, refusing to meet with Hashmal or the other remaining Lucavi, and waited patiently.

Finding her eyes locked once more on the rising sun, Morrigan scowled, willing the very human recollections from her mind. So consumed by the task was she that the Lucavi didn't notice the light footsteps approaching behind her.

"I told you we would take this world together, my love."

Morrigan spun, all human thoughts forced away by the soft female voice that called to her. The woman that stood before her looked almost the same as when Morrigan had placed her on the altar, deep within the heart of darkness. There was only one physical alteration, but it made plain who now controlled the woman. Alma Beoulve's hair had been spun with a gold as rich as the sun to the east, and had been replaced by the surreal silver that belonged to Altima, the Bloody Angel. The Lucavi wore deep red robes, cut in an ancient fashion similar to the armor that Morrigan wore, revealing her thighs and hips in a most sensual way.

"Ajora," Morrigan said breathlessly, rushing to the slightly smaller woman. "You have come."

They met in an all too human fashion, embracing each other tightly against the departing night. Taking Morrigan's face in delicate fingers, the woman's lover kissed her deeply. The pair of them knew that these bodies were holding them back from their full might, but they would take advantage of the human condition while they were forced to bear it. Breath for breath they remained locked together, lips parting to allow their darkened souls to mingle. Finally Ajora broke the kiss, gently caressing Morrigan's lips with one finger.

"I apologize for the delay, there were matters that required my attention."

"Of course, my love." Morrigan replied quietly, still clinging to the new incarnation of her ancient charge. "Are you satisfied with everything?"

"I am." The reborn soul said with a sharp laugh. "I had not expected my soul would find a home in the body of a woman, but I suppose I am no longer human enough for it to matter. We gave up being mortal long ago, after all."

"I still remember everything." Morrigan said, her voice dark. "Every thought I had until the moment we were killed, and the contract I made."

"As do I." Ajora replied, turning to stare across the fort. "There are remnants of the Beoulve girl as well, buried deep within me. Eventually they will become as much a part of me as my memories as Ajora Glabados. Such is the nature of our existence."

"Then you're aware of the… brother?" Morrigan asked, gently caressing her lover's hair.

"Yes, Ramza." Ajora replied. "There's no doubt he will come for us, and he is not to be underestimated."

"I agree. I've not seen a man with such conviction before, and our arrival has left him with nothing left to lose."

"We shall let him come. The boy wants what we have taken, and he is the one thing that stands in the way of our dominion over all men."

"You mean… he's the one?" Morrigan asked, snarling. "I should have cut him down when I had the chance."

"It's ironic, isn't it my dear? My vessel and my greatest threat are both of the same blood that once coursed through my veins, and descended from the one that condemned me. He will come, we will destroy him, and Ivalice will be ours, as I promised you all those centuries ago."

* * *

**Author's Note:** What's this, I finally updated? Ho-lee-crap.

So if you have a map of Ivalice, I'd ask you to bring it up now. I use one a lot while I write, to remember where things are in relation to my work, and it helps. If you have one, you can just go ahead and open it in Paint and use the Eraser tool to scrub out everything directly south of Zirekile falls. It's gone, buried under the sea. Yeah, it's the end of the world, and it started there.

I wanted to try and clarify a bit for people, since the possession of Alma and Meliadoul may be a little confusing in that it's somewhat complicated. Basically, and this will actually be explained more in the story itself, Shemhazai and Altima initially possessed Ajora and Morrigan during their time. In doing so they, like all Lucavi in the Canon-verse, maintain some memories and emotions of their human host. This is seen with Wiegraf recalling details about Ramza, and his sister's death, while the Velius aspect altered his mindset to no longer care about human revenge. This merging of souls, since Ajora and Morrigan invited them in rather than being forcefully possessed, means that Shemhazai and Altima retained some of the memories and personality of their original human host. This has carried over into Meliadoul and Alma, pushing most of _their_ actual personality deep away, locking their souls inside. I hope that kind of clears it up some, and like I said it'll be discussed in the story.

Then there's the last line of this chapter, which is something else that will be explained later.

Let's see, what else. Oh yes, Agrias. Now I'm not trying to make her seem overly emotional in this story, though it seems like she's a lot less... solid than she was in the game. I wanted it like this to show that Agrias went down a less just path than she did in canon, and it's deeply clashing with her morals and sense of rightousness. With Lavian and Alicia dying it really brought out that anguish. Plus, Zalbag and Agrias shipping? Yes please. You may not like it as much as I did, but I found that could be a fun pairing. Since half of the pairings in here are_ very_ fanon, if somewhat justified, I couldn't leave that one alone.

**InXain:** Glad you like the story, and I hope what I wrote above helped with the whole Morrigan confusion. As for the seal being in Orbonne, you're right, but I didn't want to have people going back to Orbonne like six times. It really made it more difficult to bring all the things together that I needed to in Murond, so I took a couple of liberties with it. I always figured there had to be more than one seal to "hell" in Ivalice, and that it was only the Orbonne one that Hasmal could access. With Shemhazai thrown into the mix, I figured that she would be able to open the one in Murond. Since then the one in Orbonne has opened, as well as possibly others in southern Ivalice.

**Gambit Knight:** Trust me you'll get your remaining baddies, as well as plenty of Vormav/Izlude. With Meliadoul no longer herself, who else would be standing against that Cowardly Lion Lucavi?

**Vegeta the 3rd:** I was happy with the Lionsguard's sacrifice as well. As I said before, main characters _will_ die in this. It is a war, after all. Regarding the Scions of Light, I really don't want to say anything and risk giving away future plot points. This update took awhile, but hopefully I can actually get around to the upcoming multi-chapter battle soon, because there's a lot I still want to do before this is all over.

Thanks everyone for being patient, reviews and critiques appreciated.


	31. Closely Kept

**Chapter Thirty-One: Closely Kept**

* * *

Cid stood with his arms crossed, carefully observant of the assembled Nanten Knights that formed ranks in the battleyard of Lesalia. Gaff strode in front of the men, clearly enjoying his recent promotion despite his disdain for every man who ever commanded him. As the most experienced men when it came to large scale warfare, the two knights had been left in charge of planning and preparing the forces of the Southern Sky.

Orlandu had been somewhat surprised that Delita had delegated such power to them, but he believed he understood the young man's motivation. He'd been wrong about where the true battle was to be waged, and knew now that his ambition and thirst for power had cost Ivalice more than the Lucavi could ever have managed alone. This, perhaps, was an attempt at humble atonement.

No doubt Ramza could have done the work instead, but he opted to remain in Igros with Olan and Mustadio, to help with whatever it was the machinist was constructing. The young Beoulve may have been committed to the coming war, but he certainly didn't seem keen on leading more men to their death. That burden would fall upon those that were prepared to carry it, and Cid believed the boy deserved the reprieve.

As it was, the Nanten army made up only half of the men they hoped to bring to bear. Agrias and Zalbag had departed to Bervenia that morning to attempt to summon the free men living there, along with the remnants of the Northern Sky. Reis and Beowulf were travelling east, taking a route north of the Lucavi forces, but Cid knew not what they were seeking. He could only hope that there were enough warriors left in Ivalice willing to rally to their cause.

"Count, erm, General," Izlude said, glancing around nervously as he approached Cid's side. "I honestly don't know what title to use, but what would you have me do?"

Cid chuckled lightly, raising an eyebrow at the boy. Izlude had fought and bled, standing against creatures that were the nightmare of the nation, and was more worthy a man than many twice his age. It amused Cid that the young Tingel still had trouble addressing him directly.

"Who else would I allow to lead the Knight Blades," Cid said with a rueful smile. "Captain Tingel."

It was clear the knight was excited, but he had the tact and wisdom to keep it contained. Izlude nodded solemnly, grinning, before he jogged off toward the Blades, motioning for them to follow him away from the assembled Nanten. Cid watched him as he departed with the knights, unaware that he was being scrutinized just as hard until the woman cleared her throat.

"It seems you have your army back." Ruvelia said, her tone dry.

"If you're here, then I need to assign more men to your vanguard. I have a strict policy against bitter former Royalty roaming the city alone."

"Do you believe it will be any more difficult for me to lose ten men than it was two in _my_ city?"

"I suppose not. What do you want?"

"I simply needed to spend some time away from my prison of a bedchamber, without your spies as escorts."

"So in that time you decide to come to the man who assigned those spies?"

"I see I was wrong in thinking you could let your guard down long enough to accept an apology." Ruvelia replied harshly, falling back into her studied aloof manner.

"Your false remorse should be directed at the Queen, not me."

"I've already spoken at length with Ovelia. We have come to an… understanding."

Cid turned at that, gazing at the woman with interest. In all the time he'd known Ruvelia, he'd never seen her admit her faults to anyone. It was a shock that she would go so far as actually meeting with the woman she had betrayed in an attempt to make amends.

As he opened his mouth to speak, Cid noticed a familiar set of dark armor approaching behind the woman, surrounded by several Nanten knights. He quickly whistled to draw Gaff's attention, before stepping closer to Ruvelia, gently taking her arm.

"I'll meet with you shortly, I have to see to this first. You know where."

The former Queen nodded shallowly, a small smile touching her lips before departing. Cid watched her leave, and Gaff quickly joined him, before the Touten reached them.

"Cecil," Gaff said coolly, his eyes narrowing. "I never expected to see you here."

"Save it old man." The young knight replied quickly. "Raithwall has been destroyed, and creatures from the dark are currently marching north from Limberry. Those of us who made it out have come here to offer our swords."

"I'm supposed to believe you come here bearing me no ill will?"

"I shall _always_ bear such toward you. However, I've no intention of sitting idly by and watching this blight sweep over Ivalice."

Gaff glanced over, shrugging nonchalantly and crossing his arms. Cid knew little of the Touten and his knights, but if Gaff felt secure enough to allow the boy to stand beside them, that would have to suffice.

"Then we accept your aid." Cid said with a bow of the head. "I'll leave them to you, Captain Gafgarion. I have other matters to see to."

"I thought you'd be too old to handle issues such as those." The Dark Knight replied with a sly smile.

Sighing, Cid left the man to deal with the arrival of the Raithwall knights, and made his way out of the battleyard. It wasn't a far trek to the Library of Lesalia, which held the entire history of Ivalice, and had served as a favorite of both he and Ruvelia's. As he entered the large archives, Cid spotted the woman standing alone, her gaze travelling over the nearby tomes.

"What are you plotting at?" Cid asked as he reached her, still quite suspicious of the woman's motives.

"Nothing." Ruvelia replied with a sad sigh. "You know there was once a time that you didn't despise me."

"I don't despise you now. I simply do not trust you."

"I had no choice!" The woman shouted, drawing the gaze of the two other men in the library before she lowered her voice. "My brother believed Goltanna was going to try and use Ovelia to make a play for the throne, and we had little time to make a decision. I never sought harm for the girl, but I wasn't going to hand Ivalice to a woman who is a false Princess."

"You were wise enough not to speak of this to Ovelia, I hope." Cid replied sternly, his voice hard.

"Of course." She replied, rolling her eyes. "You and I may be the only people alive who know the truth, and I would not be so petty."

"I hope you see now where you were wrong. Goltanna had no plans for the crown until you set such events in motion, and it is likely Larg's hand was being played by the Lucavi. Your love for power helped drag Ivalice into the darkness we now face."

"Do you think I don't know this?" Ruvelia shot back, glaring at him. "I meant to stabilize the nation, not cast it into chaos. You too had a hand in _that_, dear Cid."

"The difference is I acknowledge my mistakes."

"I wish I could set time back," The woman said with a sigh. "To long before I was ever Queen. It was a much happier time, despite the fifty-year war."

"That's true, but the Duchess of Gallione could have no place with a Knight of Zeltennia. Dreaming of such things was folly, and we both knew that."

"I didn't care then, and I don't care now." Ruvelia countered, leaning forward to kiss Cid gently on the cheek, and striding quickly away.

The knight watched her as she slipped through the door and onto the street, and he continued to stare at the door for several long moments after she was gone.

* * *

Beowulf reined his Chocobo back, eyeing the base of the Germinas Peak warily. Hills and plateaus surrounded the man and his lover, sometimes obscuring the morning sun as they sought the quickest route around the mountain. He and Reis had ridden hard for several days, the urgency of the marching horde to the south pressing them on. As it was, they would be narrowly missing the Lucavi legions as they journeyed back to the west.

The trek was worth it if they were successful. There was only one safe pass that went completely around Germinas, and Beowulf spurred his mount ahead. Reis followed suit, the two birds loping ahead quickly through the narrow canyon. They saw the banners no sooner than they had come around the first bend of the pass, and Beowulf instantly pulled his mount to a halt.

"Those are… Lionel Knights?" He said quietly, glancing back at Reis.

"Perhaps they fled the Castle before it was lost." The woman offered, though she seemed as nervous as he. "We have no choice but to press on."

Beowulf agreed, but he didn't like it in the least. There may still have been a few Gryphon Knights loyal to him, but it was just as likely he would find men that had been beneath Buremonda, and they would not make the passage easier. Urging his Chocobo on, Beowulf took a more casual pace, his gaze locked on the banners as they grew closer.

The knights stood on either side of the pass, as though guarding the very passage into heaven, and Beowulf was surprised to see the man that stood directly in front of them.

"Aliste?" Beowulf asked calmly as he dismounted, furrowing his brow. "What are you doing here?"

Aliste Rosenheim had served directly below Beowulf when he commanded the Gryphons, and the man had always been something of a rival. They got along well enough, but there was always a wall between them. No doubt he was now commanding the men in Beowulf's absence.

"Waiting for you, of course." The man said, his expression blank. "When Lionel was evacuated I took my vanguard and travelled north. Considering the condition Reis was in, and I'm quite glad she is back to her old self, I expected it was only a matter of time before you came here."

"You knew of Buremonda's treachery?" Beowulf shot back, anger slipping into his voice.

"He never ceased speaking of it. I grew weary of living under his heel, and allowed him to follow the Templars out of Lionel without me."

"All to resolve some petty rivalry?"

"Petty? I never wished to take command of the Gryphon's without besting you. My honor would allow it to be no other way."

"I have no desire to fight you." Beowulf said calmly.

"There's little time left for me before this malady runs its course, and I refuse to go to the grave without my satisfaction." Aliste replied with a low growl, drawing his sword. "If you do not wish to fight, then you should just die quickly!"

The Temple Knight surged ahead, a quick incantation coating his blade with a fine sheen of frost. Beowulf moved into a defensive stance, shifting in front of Reis and jerking his own weapon free. With a crash of steel the two men met.

Parrying Aliste's initial blow to his right, the former Gryphon Commander sidestepped, attempting to slam the pommel of his sword into his foe's jaw. Aliste slipped just beneath the strike, shoving Beowulf away with one hand to create enough of a gap to press on.

The two Lionel Knights danced back and forth over the short grass, avoiding the still burning campfire that the other men had been using. Aliste had always been a skilled swordsman, only barely falling short of Beowulf's own ability with a blade, and it seemed that he had continued honing his craft since they'd last met.

Beowulf found he was forced back, gripping his sword with both hands and blocking and avoiding every slash the man directed at him. The pass wasn't wide by most standards, but it proved wide enough for easy maneuverability. Sidling quickly around the man, Beowulf knocked his opponent's sword to the side with one armored elbow, seeking only to wound Aliste as he cut down.

The tip of his blade glanced off the shoulder armor of the other man, forcing both of them to take a step back and regain their footing. Aliste quickly unleashed one of the potent skills they had been trained in, an invisible force sapping the very life force of Beowulf and giving the man renewed vigor.

Backing and parrying the incoming attacks, Beowulf began to circle back toward the campfire, rolling nimbly beneath a horizontal slash that was aimed at his throat. The knight thrust his sword into the fire, using a spoken incantation to cause the flames to wrap themselves around his blade.

Beowulf lunged forward, scoring a shallow hit on the man's left flank, the wound instantly searing closed from the heat, and pressed the assault. They continued their back and forth, each man giving up ground stubbornly. The two trained warriors were on near equal footing, with Beowulf slightly out of practice since his rescue of his lover.

His foe knew this as he continued attacking, a slight smile of appreciation for combat touching his lips. Beowulf allowed himself to be pushed back toward the peak near them, looking for a suitable opening in the man's guard to strike through. Their blades sizzled, bitter cold meeting harnessed flame, as embers fell to the grass beneath them.

As Aliste raised his sword quickly, swirling crimson enveloping the well crafted longsword in his grasp, Beowulf pitched himself to the side. He rolled quickly across the cool grass, narrowly avoiding the potent sword art as it impacted with mountain slope behind him. Quickly the ex-Temple Knight sprung to his feet, bringing up his guard as the ground beneath him began to tremble.

The two combatants stumbled, and the vanguard of Gryphons quickly moved into defensive positions, seeking the cause of the earthquake. Only Reis seemed unperturbed, staring thoughtfully at the snowcapped peak above them.

"What in Ajora's name is going on?" Aliste exclaimed, dropping to a knee as the world around them shook.

"You boys will have to settle this later." Reis replied over the deep rumbling. "She's awake."

* * *

"Look out!"

Ramza heard Mustadio's warning just in time to drop to the deck beneath his feet, narrowly avoiding the massive block of ironwood that swung toward his face, thickly twined line straining with the weight. The block was lowered gently to the deck directly behind the Dark Knight, rope fraying some through the pulley that held it aloft, as Mustadio jogged toward him with an apologetic look on his face.

"Sorry Ramza, we didn't see you when we started to move it."

"It's nothing." He replied, rising to his feet and dusting off his tunic as Olan joined them. "I take it the work is going well?"

"Well enough I suppose. We still have much to do, but that's not why you're here. Follow me."

The machinist snagged a line with one gloved hand, leaping over the side of the Valefor and sliding to the ground below. Ramza and Olan took the ramp instead, meeting him in front of Rattletrap as the steel golem looked around in what could have actually been concern.

"I hope it doesn't rain," Mustadio began, glancing at the darkening sky above them. "There's no shelter for my ship, and I don't want to have to race to get this hunk of demon smashing metal back together."

Judging from Rattletraps condition, Ramza figured it would be good if he didn't rush. The golem was missing several of the metal plates that kept its gears and cogs protected, including the massive chest piece that covered the cannon hidden within its massive frame. The construct was also without one arm, the appendage lying on a large table a short distance away.

**"RATTLETRAP IS INCOMPLETE. THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE."**

"I know big guy, keep it together for just a little longer, I'm almost done."

**"UNDERSTOOD. KEEPING IT TOGETHER, MASTER."**

Shaking his head, Mustadio motioned for Ramza to follow as he strode over to the table where Rattletrap's arm had been placed. With a triumphant grin the machinist yanked a cloth cover off of his latest invention. Dark steel glinted against the afternoon sun as Ramza looked the replica of Rattletraps missing appendage over. It was different in appearance, more jagged and armored, and rather crude in comparison to the golem's original design.

"Does it work?"

"As far as I can tell, yes. You'll have to test it yourself to be sure. I think I've gotten the connecting joints down, but it will need some more work before it is combat ready."

"If it functions," Olan said, eyeing it with appreciation. "It'll definitely do some damage."

"Indeed." Ramza agreed, staring at the small hole in the palm of the massive mechanical arm.

The three men made their way back up ramp of the Valefor, Mustadio immediately going back to ordering around the men who moved wood and iron from the ground to the airship. Olan and Ramza observed the work silently for a spell, leaning against the rail of the craft, until the young astrologist's face lit up.

"She's back." He said simply, jogging toward the ramp as Valmafra, Celia, and Lede climbed up it.

Ramza didn't know the man and woman who followed them, but believed they may have been siblings. Both were dark in complexion and dressed in similar garb, with long staves worn diagonally across their back. It was clear they were cut from the same cloth as Val and the twins, their attire designed for ease of movement rather than protection.

"I'd like you to meet Rafa and Malak Galthana. They command the Kamyuja of Riovanes." Valmafra explained, gesturing to the siblings.

"You're Ramza Beoulve, correct?" Malak said, taking Ramza's hand firmly. "We owe a debt to your brother for keeping us from a dark fate. We have come to make good on it."

"I appreciate it. We could definitely use the help." Ramza replied with a small smile.

"Can this thing really float?" Rafa asked, bright brown eyes scanning Valefor.

"_Float_?" Mustadio repeated with a sharp laugh. "Oh, she can do much more than just that. Would you like to see how it works?"

"That would be wonderful!"

Ramza shook his head as the machinist guided Rafa to the helm of the airship, rambling on about his craft as they walked. The woman had made the mistake of getting Mustadio started, and it was likely he'd be bragging about the Valefor for an hour at least.

"Word has it that the Nanten forces are gathering at Lesalia." Malak said, less concerned about learning the inner workings of the airship.

"Yes," Ramza began, stepping aside to allow Olan and Val to speak in private on the deck of the ship. "We've dispatched people throughout Ivalice to gather what aid we can manage. It won't be long before we join them at the Capital."

"I won't get comfortable here then. My people are prepared to depart whenever you're ready."

"Very well, thank you." Ramza replied with a nod, his attention travelling to Celia as she cleared her throat.

"Malak, you better tell your sister to back off. We already have our claws in him." The assassin said softly, a slight smirk touching her lips.

"What do you mean?"

Lede pointed at Rafa and Mustadio, and Ramza cast his gaze over toward them. The white clad woman was leaning close to the machinist as he showed her the stone that powered the craft, her bare shoulder brushing against his arm, clearly taken with both the Valefor and its pilot. Malak practically sprinted onto the airship, dodging the workers onboard as he made his way swiftly to his sibling.

"Playing with him never gets old, does it?" Celia asked with a quiet laugh, linking arms with her sister and strolling over to see the result of their meddling.

Ramza rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly and strode to where Olan and Val were watching the scene in amusement, Malak's tirade audible even above the sound of metal and wood being dragged across the deck. It seemed Malak had something of a protective streak, but Ramza couldn't begrudge him that. He was just as concerned when it came to Alma.

The Beoulve had to drop the thought of Alma, as that familiar feeling of dread clenched his chest. His sister was no longer the innocent tether that kept him grounded throughout every trial he was forced through. He wasn't even sure if she would ever be that again, but all he could hold onto was the hope that she could still somehow be saved. By the time he reached Olan, all thoughts of his younger sister had been banished.

"Once Mustadio is done with... that... have him load up what remains. We'll depart for Lesalia as soon as he has everything on the Valefor, and the work can be completed there."

"Sure." Olan replied, trying not to laugh. "_If_ he survives, I'll let him know."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Trying to wrap up some loose ends and gather the remaining forces as quickly as possible before the battle begins. There will be one more downtime chapter in Lesalia, with a little more character development, then it's on to the war. I'll probably be knocking out the chapters of the final battle much faster, as I have them already pretty well in mind, where this requires a little more thought. I couldn't help but poke fun at Malak a little. He makes it so easy, I don't know why I decided to make Mustadio so appealing to the opposite sex this time around. They just dig the ponytail I suppose.

**Dark Triad:** Glad you're back, and I hope to not disappoint. I'm currently playing through DA II right now, but haven't seen Morrigan in it yet. I was hoping she at least made an appearance, considering how much of a role she played in the first one. I can totally see her voice matching Shemhazai though. There'll be some more monologuing from her for you to fit with the voice, and some more Agrias/Zalbag for certain.

**Vegeta the 3rd:** I don't know who Ramza is meant to be descended from in canon, but Altima does mention it is from the person who destroyed them before. Well you got your Toutens in the upcoming battle, along with the Knight Blades, Bervenians/Hokuten, and the Kamyuja. There will be others joining the fight as well, on both sides of the conflict. Not gonna name names though. And Airship Battle? Try Airship _Chapter_.

**InXain:** It was really difficult for me to write Ramza with such angst. He never shows it in the game itself, but I figure that he never truly lost everything in canon. Alma was taken, yes, but he always held onto the hope that he would get to her before she was used by the Lucavi. Losing her to Altima, and Meliadoul to Shem, took quite the toll on him. He's definitely still in the game, but is much more broken than he once was. Your predictions and thoughts touch on some of what will be coming soon, but not in the ways you think. Expect a couple minor twists and some losses to the group. Just _who_ is going to be dying soon?

On a final note, and shameless plug, I uploaded the first chapter of a Tactics/Vagrant Story Crossover I've considered working on after I finish TLoI. It's mostly a placeholder chapter to give me incentive to actually work on it, and might be revised a bit, but if anyone is interested in it it's on the FFT page, since the Crossover pages are terrible in my opinion.


	32. Bethla Bound

**Chapter Thirty-Two: Bethla Bound**

* * *

"What do you mean all of them?" Izlude asked, leaning against the table in front of him.

The leaders of the combined forces of Ivalice had gathered in a large war room in Lesalia Castle, in preparation of the coming assault and to finalize the plans for the deployment of their armies. Despite the size of the chamber, there was barely enough room around the large table in the center for the men and women who sought to keep Ivalice from falling into darkness. Even Ovelia, who had been kept mostly out of the planning by Delita, had come to witness. None of them save Ramza had been prepared for the news the regent would bring.

"It seems that aside from some small raiding parties on the fringes, the Lucavi have gathered their forces at Bethla." Delita explained, reading over some of the reports from Nanten scouts.

"So they know we're going to attack?" Gafgarion said, sighing. "That's just lovely. It's just the Impregnable Fortress, after all."

Ramza silently regarded his allies as they spoke amongst themselves, contemplating their next move. He didn't wish to speak until he had something useful to add to the arguments and discussion that flew around him, and he honestly wasn't surprised that the Lucavi were steeling for a fight. As he sat and pondered the upcoming struggle, Ramza noticed that the room had grown quiet. All eyes had fallen upon him, and it still made him uncomfortable to be looked at as a leader of men, despite having fallen into the role.

"I would have liked to get to the Lucavi generals without wading through their horde," Ramza began, sighing. "But we have no choice but to press on. The longer we delay the more of their ilk they can muster."

"I'm curious how they managed to know we were preparing to mount an assault." Wiegraf noted, casting a sharp glance at Izlude. "It's almost like they have eyes and ears inside of Lesalia."

Izlude didn't even have time to take offense at the remark before the edge of a sword was pressed against Wiegraf's throat. Who wielded that blade was a surprise to all of the warriors gathered, as Gafgarion narrowed his gaze at the blonde knight.

"Mind your neck," The man growled harshly. "Stick it out too far, it's liable to be taken off."

"Why Gaff," Izlude said lightly as the Dark Knight sheathed his weapon. "I'm touched."

"Don't be. We just don't need dissention of that kind." He replied, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms.

"Agreed." Ramza added, shooting a dark glance toward Wiegraf. "It wouldn't be difficult for Morrigan and Ajora to anticipate this."

The Dark Knight shifted his gaze to Mustadio, pausing for a moment to gather his thoughts. "Is the Valefor ready?"

"Nearly. I should have everything I need completed in two days time; the rest can be done on the way."

"You have until sunset tomorrow." Ramza replied simply. "The ground forces will leave within the hour. The Lucavi cannot be allowed to rally more of their kind."

"I'll see to it." Cid said.

"What of Reis and Beowulf? They have yet to return." Zalbag noted, frowning in concern for the pair.

"We can't wait for them any longer. They may not be coming back at all if the demons have forced their way far enough North." Delita supplied quickly, still scanning his reports, before he glanced up at Ramza. "I'll make ready my men and leave immediately."

"Very well." Ramza said, his voice quiet. "Make no mistake, this battle will be harrowing. The Lucavi are, as you all know, a ruthless and cunning enemy. They're going to throw everything they have at us, but we mustn't fail. If we fall at Bethla, Ivalice falls with us."

The faces of the men and women gathered were somber, the true weight of the burden that lie before them falling upon the room. They knew that some of them might never make it back from the Garrison, and they knew that they dared not fail. The fate of the entire world rested in the hands of these warriors, these Lions, and no power outside their own resolve would save Ivalice.

As Ramza's friends and allies departed the war room, the Dark Knight made his way out to the expansive balcony that overlooked Lesalia, intending to be alone with his thoughts. It was only a few moments before Izlude joined him beneath the night sky, staring out across the Imperial Capital, a short distance from his friend.

"So this is it." Izlude said quietly, closing his eyes. "We're going to war with the legions of hell itself."

"We'll show them what hell truly is." Ramza replied, his voice calm.

"Damn right." His closest friend replied with a sharp laugh. "They'll be running _back_ into the depths by the time we're finished with them."

"Izlude, should I not return…"

"No," The young knight shot back before he could finish. "Don't even start speaking like that."

"I'm going to save Alma and Mel." Ramza replied, his gaze still locked on a far distant place. "If the price for them is my life, then it is one I would pay a thousand times over. You'll keep Alma safe for me, right?"

"Of course." Izlude said solemnly. "But that's not going to happen. I'll be with you, every step of the way."

"Just like old times, right?"

"Except this time, I'm commanding the Blades, so it should be much better." Izlude continued, smirking. "I'll be stuck with you as a brother within a week, surely."

"Izlude," Ramza said, letting a small measure of the man's hope inside. "You're already my brother."

* * *

Agrias would never have believed that stones and mortar could be evil, but as the combined forces of the Northern Sky and the Bervenians reached the top of the hill, she felt a wave of despair wash over her. Bethla Garrison was no longer the familiar, steadfast fortress that was once the pride of the Southern Sky. In the short time that the Lucavi had held the fort they had constructed their own disturbing fortifications, dark and ominous, culminating in a tower that seemed to stretch into the heavens. The Holy Knight had to crane her neck, even at this distance, just to gaze at the top of the spire.

Circling that impossibly tall tower were easily a dozen airships similar to the Valefor, though they looked to be in much worse repair. The ships drifted lazily around the fort, slowly turning to cruise out toward the gathered human forces. Some were smaller and more aerodynamic, while two in particular were so large Agrias could hardly fathom the power of the dark sorcery that kept them aloft.

Beside her, she heard Zalbag curse quietly. They made up the right flank of the army, with Delita and the Nanten Knights forming the left. Below them was the riverbed that once, with her aid, had seen the demise of nearly all of the Hokuten. The men at her back remembered all too well the crushing defeat they had suffered here, and the cries of their fellow soldiers as they were washed away still rang in their ears.

As Agrias let her gaze travel to the other side of the small valley, she felt her breath catch in her throat. Illuminated by the late afternoon sun, the legions of hell waited for them. She hadn't been prepared for their numbers, and distantly the Holy Knight wondered if they even had a chance. The demons had no discernable formation, each of them moving of their own volition within the assembled horde. Dark bodies flowed together like water, the entire Lucavi army moving as though it were a swarm of insects protecting their hive.

The woman glanced down the front line of the gathered men of Ivalice, her eyes meeting with Olan and Valmafra's, the same look of trepidation on their faces. The demons outnumbered them by at least three to one, and were vicious and bloodthirsty down to the very last. Any good commander would retreat in the hopes of a more even battle, but there was nowhere left to retreat to. Win or lose, this battle had to be fought.

"Look at them." Zalbag said suddenly, his voice intentionally loud enough to carry to the first few lines of his men. "Do you see what I see?"

As the Arc Knight turned to face the Hokuten that made up his vanguard, the small sounds of dissonance fell silent. The men with them knew what a hopeless assault this looked to be, but they trusted and respected the Beoulve, and would lend him their ear.

"I see _fear_!" Zalbag shouted, his voice booming. "The Lucavi are cowering behind stone walls, hiding and sending their minions to protect them. Their numbers mean nothing, for each man here is worth ten of those pathetic creatures."

Pausing, Zalbag cantered his mount in front of the soldiers, and Agrias fell into step beside him. She hadn't been expecting a victory speech, not in the face of _this_, but she found herself enthralled. Zalbag knew they were at a disadvantage, but he couldn't let his men see his misgivings. The Holy Knight was silently impressed with his resolve.

"They invaded our land, seeking to destroy it. Be you from Gariland or Riovanes, Zeltennia or Limberry, they want to see you dead. They want your home and your family, and they thought they would have it without a fight. They thought they would have _Ivalice_ without a fight! Now, when they see how we have banded together, the soil themselves in the fortress we built. They know we have come with righteousness and the strength of an entire nation, and it scares them! What do you think, my friends? Should we give them something more to fear?"

The roar that erupted from the men was deafening, the sheer force of will behind it momentarily halting the movements of the horde across the valley. Agrias didn't see the reaction of the demons, however, as her gaze was locked onto Zalbag. He had stirred this mixture of knights and farmers, nobles and blacksmiths, into a frenzy of patriotism with only a few words. Even more astounding was that the Beoulve had managed to do the same to Agrias, who felt her hand fall instinctively to the blade at her side.

"Prepare for combat!" Zalbag cried out, drawing his sword and turning on his heel, as the battle cry was lifted up by the Nanten soldiers as well and the Hokuten drew their weapons in tandem.

* * *

"Curse my eyes, look at all of them!" Mustadio exclaimed, leaning over the side of the Valefor as it drifted high above the army of Ivalice.

"It's certainly a warm welcome." Wiegraf replied, crossing his arms and frowning at the horde of creatures below.

The machinist ran one hand through his hair, glancing over at Celia and Lede. The twins had opted to remain on the Valefor, to help protect it and the man piloting the craft. Smiling shyly at the women, he turned and made his way over to Ramza, who stood at the bow of the ship. The Dark Knight was gazing impassively at Bethla Garrison, a dark cloak clasped tightly around his frame, obscuring his armor from view.

"Is everything prepared?" Ramza asked, his eyes locked on the fort.

"Everyone below is ready and waiting, and Izlude is in position."

"Good." The man replied, narrowing his eyes and hesitating for a moment. "They're in there."

"Alma and Mel?"

"Yes. I think they're waiting for me."

"Why?" Mustadio asked, glancing at the fort and frowning.

"Morrigan knows why I'm here. No doubt she wants to kill me." Ramza mused quietly, his gaze slowly traveling to the dark clouds that hovered high above the fortress. "Let's not make them wait any longer."

"Got it."

The machinist jogged back toward the helm of the ship, the distant sound of thunder following him as he nodded to the signalman at the rear of the Valefor. The man turned on his heel, raising the large pistol above his head and closing his eyes. With a booming crack the gun went off, the magically enhanced weapon firing a ball of fire high into the air.

With a heavy length of line in his massive steel fists, Rattletrap watched the flames as they ascended, patiently waiting for the word to do his part beneath the main mast of the airship.

Grabbing the helm, Mustadio urged the Valefor ahead, as the Knight Blades responded to the gunshot. Streaks of darkness flew past the airship, as the black chocobos that had been congregating behind the craft shot toward the Lucavi air fleet. The Blades formed up as they moved in front of the Valefor, creating an arrowhead and tearing through the afternoon sky.

"I really hope this works!" Mustadio shouted over the rising gusts of wind, as Celia and Lede moved to stand on either side of him.

* * *

Delita gently patted the neck of his chocobo as it anxiously marched in place, his deep brown eyes focused on the demon army that waited for him. He wasn't certain what Zalbag had said to the men on the right flank, but whatever it was had certainly had a profound effect on every man present. The Nanten soldiers had taken up the cry started there without hesitation, as though the two factions had never been at war. It was interesting how the end of the world could bring two heated enemies to the same side.

A short distance to either side of the regent, Gaff and Cid sat upon their own mounts. The veteran knights were the ones truly in command of the forces of the Southern Sky, but Delita was hardly about to sit out the battle. He would ride beside the knights around him, at the head of the charge, as was the duty of a King. Though he wore no crown, Delita would behave as he should. He would not abandon the seat he had fought to claim.

Glancing behind him, he checked to be sure the Kamyuja were in position. The assassins from Riovanes had stationed themselves at the rear of the gathered army, prepared to serve their role as a stiletto. Once the fighting started, they would be punching through the enemy formation, if it even had one, to try and take down some of the more troublesome monstrosities they would be facing.

Focusing his attention back on the field ahead of him, Delita tightened his grip on the reins of his mount, adjusting the lance beneath his arm. The air around him was tense and thick, every solider ready to charge forward the moment they were given leave. Despite the twinge of fear in his gut, Delita found he was just as excited as they were, and he was unsure how he felt about that.

He'd never been one for open combat, opting to work behind the scenes to move the flow of men and kingdoms to his advantage. Battles such as this were Ramza's expertise, but it fell upon him to fight one last battle for the land he hoped to rule. It would be the final proof that he was worthy of Ovelia's legacy, and she would be waiting for him when he returned.

The man wasn't certain when he had grown to love the Queen, but it had tempered his nature in ways he had not expected. Ovelia slipped into his thoughts more often than anything else now, and with some surprise he realized that he was fighting this battle as much for her as he was his own bid for power, perhaps even more so. That fear in the pit of his stomach only grew when he imagined what would become of the girl should he falter.

Delita's thoughts of the Queen were interrupted by the hollow crack from above, and every mounted knight at his side knew what it meant. The Nanten cavalry kicked their chocobos in unison, a deep cry rising as the men rushed down the slope in front of them. On the other side of the river bank the Lucavi minions mirrored them, charging down with a cacophony of snarls and growls, audible even at this distance.

Joining in the war cry that announced their charge, Delita aimed the tip of his lance straight ahead of him. He released the reins of his mount, knowing that the chocobo would keep the pace of its brothers, and smoothly drew his sword. With his army at his back and sides, the future King of Ivalice rode into the valley he had once flooded, a better man than he had been then.

Raising his sword, his gaze locked on the first of the monsters that charged toward him, Delita wrought righteous fury into their midst. Buffeted by the sword skill and stunned, he drove the point of his lance into the chest of the closest demon, the impact jarring his shoulder harshly as the creature was lifted off its feet and impaled.

With the resounding crash of humans and chocobos slamming into the denizens of hell, the Battle for Ivalice had begun.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I had originally planned on one more short build-up chapter, that would include the first part of this chapter, as well as a scene with Delita and Ovelia, Agrias and Zalbag, and possibly Cid and Ruvelia. I decided against it, instead using the first section to make note of what the Lucavi were doing. I didn't want the coming action to stagnate, and I hope it worked out well this way. The chapter isn't too long, but it's a stepping stone for the next chapters, all of which revolve around different parts of the battle. Ballpark is around four chapters for the final battle, but we'll see just how it goes. I'm not sure if that's too much, but I do plan to try and keep it moving, as there is a lot that will be happening, and several baddies that need iced.

It was recently brought to my attention that TLoI now has it's own Tropes Page on TVTropes. I won't link to it because while I don't think has a rule about throwing links up, I figure it's better to be safe than sorry. You can search The Lion of Ivalice on the website if you want to check it out.

I have to say when I found out I was blown away. As an avid Troper myself, I've spent hours simply bouncing around the site for fun before, and I was flattered to find out my story had it's own Tropes page. I've ducked on there several times since I found out about it, to the point of my girlfriend telling me to "stop stalking my page". I want to thank whoever started the page, and all those who contribute to it. You guys rock, and seeing that gave me more motivation to write than I've had in awhile. The timing, right before the very frantic final battle, couldn't have been better.

**InXain:** I considered a few Corpse Brigade knights, but honestly I couldn't find a way for it to even be worth doing. Miluda, Golagros, and Gustav were the only three I remember, and they are all quite dead. With no real named characters left from there, and most of them wiped out by the Hokuten, it felt too much like just some "filler mooks" to me. As for Main Character Deaths, I'm still bouncing around who for sure is going to die. There's definitely going to be some, but I don't want to just off people for the sake of offing people.

**Vegeta the 3rd:** No Construct/Worker 7. I didn't really have him as part of the Reis retrieval, but I had meant to imply that Gaff and Cid had bumped him off while helping Beowulf get her back. I might not have gone into that like I should have, which would have been my mistake. Or maybe one of the Lucavi had his stone... I honestly can't recall off the top of my head. Blame 5:30 AM for this. I have no plans to "Wash" anyone, and I was really irked when he got thrown out like that as well. It seemed like it was simply for shock value, which I think is bad. Sudden deaths are fine, but I'd like to at least have a purpose to them, and not just have someone get run over by a bus at random.


	33. Love and Loss

**Chapter Thirty-Three: Love and Loss**

* * *

With the sweep of an arm, forward momentum driving her forward, Agrias slammed her shield into two of the creatures. As the demons were sent reeling the Holy Knight shifted her weight, dragging her heavy sword across the body of another misshapen beast. The front line of the Lucavi horde was composed of mostly human sized demons, each deadly and powerful in their own right. They differed in small ways, but all of them were cut from the same cloth. Elongated arms, giving them reach that nearly matched that of a knight's sword, ended in three taloned fingers that could rake through chain armor with ease. Their bodies were a deep gray in color, mottled skin providing quite a bit of protection from a glancing cut. They were quick and vicious, and possessed no fear. These creatures had spent an eternity locked in the abyss, and they weren't keen on being pressed back into it.

Agrias could see the small skirmish taking place behind that first wave, where the Nanten and Hokuten cavalry had broken through to engage some of the large spawn of hell that urged their lesser brethren on, Delita among the mounted knights. Zalbag and Agrias had opted to enter the fray on foot, leading their soldiers in a headlong rush into the snarling nightmare that was the riverbed.

The Beoulve stood directly to her right, thick black blood dotting his armor as he cut his way through the Lucavi pawns that came at him. There was little room to maneuver despite the width of the valley they stood in, and Agrias hadn't had a moment to breathe since that initial clash of bodies several minutes before. The humans were clearly more organized, remaining mostly in formation as the demons broke upon their shields and fell before their swords over and over.

Yet it seemed that for every creature that lie bleeding at their feet, two more had sprung up to take its place. The knights and free men were hard pressed to even take a breath. The monsters were relentless in their charges, paying no heed to how many of them fell in the process. Agrias quickly wiped sweat from her brow, as another wave of the humanoid beasts came at them. A familiar hissing drifted across the battlefield, and Agrias knew instantly what the sound heralded.

"Shields up!" She and Zalbag cried as one, as the rain of arrows fell upon the first line of men.

Dozens fell without a sound, caught by surprise by the short range barrage, and those that managed to bring their guard up were still accosted by it, those with minimal protection on their legs joining their fellow men in the blood soaked grass. It wasn't a moment after the final arrow fell that a wave of the foul creatures struck them, forcing the now weakened line to fight even harder just to keep them at bay.

Agrias brought a winter's chill from the heavens, her sword skill halting a handful of the demons in their tracks, killing two of them outright as the glacial shards fell upon them. Though she kept her focus on the battle in front of her face, in the back of her mind she realized what the hail of arrows meant. There were men among the Lucavi legions.

Driving her sword deep into the chest of one of the demons, Agrias let her gaze travel further down the battlefield, and she spotted the small complement of archers immediately. The wave they had repelled was regrouping for another charge, as more Hokuten and Bervenian men surged forward to close the gaps in the line. Out of the corner of her eye the Holy Knight saw Zalbag moving, and she knew instantly what he was planning.

Breaking ranks, Agrias fell into step behind the Arc Knight, cleaving the arm off one of the creatures as it sought to rake a handful of razor sharp claws across her face. A number of the Hokuten beside them broke free from the front line as well, following their commander as he barreled through the scattered Lucavi.

Taking her place at his side, Agrias pressed forward, the two knights cutting a swath through the unprepared demons. Hokuten soldiers followed in their wake, keeping the beasts from flanking them and finishing those that the two leaders only wounded. The small group broke through the gap in the Lucavi ranks, if a wild plethora of demons could be called that, and rushed ahead.

The line of human archers had just readied another volley when they saw the Hokuten coming, but it was too late for them to retreat. Agrias and Zalbag unleashed their unique abilities at the same time, ethereal energy tearing into the men. Most of them were felled instantly, and those that remained took flight without consequence.

Agrias spun, aware that the demons were no doubt bearing down on them from the rear in their overextended position. The Hokuten around her formed a small protective circle, as the hole they had broken through the Lucavi quickly closed. On the other side, the main force of the right flank pressed on, seeking to cut through and come to the aid of the two knights and their small vanguard.

"These men have been cursed." Zalbag spoke above the chaos of combat, not bothering to hide his disgust.

The Holy Knight shot a glance down at the fallen snipers, wincing at the cosmetic changes they had undertaken. Their skin was ashy and their faces sallow, as though their very soul had been sucked from them. Now they were surely no more than puppets, dancing to a dark tune. The woman had no time to pity their fate, however, as the small contingent with her was forced into combat.

Dozens of the humanoid demons had broken off from the main force, and rushed toward the Hokuten vanguard without fear or hesitation. Steel met with bone as the creatures drove into them, shoulders and claws crashing into the shields of the knights at her side. Agrias stayed within arm's reach of Zalbag and the closest Hokuten, cutting the legs out from under the first demon to falter upon her shield.

The vanguard fell into a hectic melee, trying to maintain their circular formation as the Lucavi swarmed and darted at them. There was no time for planning or orders, as Agrias and Zalbag were forced to keep their attention solely on the demons that assaulted them. The Hokuten, to their credit, maintained their composure, as the circle gradually became smaller as their allies fell. Agrias and the men gave more than they got, hacking at whatever came within reach.

The skirmish lasted less than a minute, but each stroke of her sword felt like an eternity. Fueled by anger and disgust, Agrias dragged the tip of her blade across the throat of a leaping fiend, ducking low to allow it to fly over her. Rising, the woman slammed her shield mercilessly into the face of the next, pivoting to the side to thrust her blade deep into its flank. From there she spun, swinging that bloodstained shield in a wicked arc to knock another of the creatures off its feet, a moment before it could sink it's claws into the knight beside her. A quick lunge finished it off, a stream of blood following steel as Agrias dragged her blade across its midsection.

So wrapped up in the battle was she that Agrias wasn't aware of anything outside of the Hokuten to her left and Zalbag to her right. She couldn't say how many of the nightmarish things she cut down, or how many remained. The Holy Knight only saw what she could sink her sword into, and for that short time nothing else mattered.

It wasn't until Agrias cleaved the head from one of the demons, raising her weapon in anticipation of the next, that she realized the few that remained had retreated a good distance. Taking a deep breath, the sharp scent of blood invading her nose and mouth, Agrias took a step back. For a moment she thought the demons had fallen away in fear, and then she was struck roughly to the ground, some of the wind knocked from her.

Rolling with the fall, her shield sliding from her grasp, Agrias stumbled back to her feet in time to see the Hokuten soldier that had been beside her meet his end. The colossus that had flung her to the earth picked the man up by the head as though he weighed nothing, wrenching the knight's neck once before dropping him to the grass.

The beast was the height of two men if it was an inch, thick muscles twitching beneath sparse fur, and it hunched forward in such a way that its spine resembled a drawn bow. Flat, misshapen teeth filled its maw as it roared down at the remaining men in the vanguard, furious red eyes darting between them. It was humanoid in appearance save the canine snout beneath a prominent brow, and distantly Agrias wondered if this was the fate of men who had been condemned to the abyss.

In the span of a moment it tore its way through the other Hokuten near it, sweeping them away with massive, deformed arms. Zalbag ducked beneath one of the swipes, stumbling away as it gave pursuit. Agrias shook the pain from her arm, where the shield she held had wrenched her shoulder during her tumble, and rushed to the Beoulve's aid.

"Move!" Agrias cried, raising her sword as she locked eyes with the knight.

Zalbag dove to the right, clear of the holy magic that fell from the sky, as it scorched the earth in its wake. The monstrous creature also recognized the purpose of her order, and tried to quickly move as well. It was hindered by its size and form, however, and caught the sword skill along its right side, faltering and dropping to a knee, a guttural sound of pain tearing from its throat.

Agrias moved to Zalbag's side, helping him to his feet as the demon shook its head violently. The attack had left it dazed for a moment, blinding holy light wreaking havoc with its vision. Zalbag gulped in air as he squeezed her hand, turning to face the colossus.

"Can you keep it distracted for a few moments?" Agrias asked, her voice low and quick.

"Yes." Zalbag replied, his face a cool mask as he adjusted the grip on his sword. "But you'd better make it a short nap."

As the Arc Knight strode forward, Agrias couldn't keep a small smile from touching her lips. Even in the heat of battle, the man couldn't keep from giving her grief. The beast had risen to its feet by the time Zalbag had gotten close, and immediately drew its attention with a sword skill of his own.

The Beoulve set about his duty, avoiding the lumbering giant, as Agrias closed her eyes for a moment. Concentrating on the flow of magic around her, which the woman had never been very talented at wielding, she began to chant quietly. Agrias felt the familiar warmth flood through her, the pure nature of it almost overwhelming her, and she redoubled her efforts to maintain the spell. The Holy Knight had only performed the incantation once before, as it wasn't something she had been able to rely on in the heat of battle.

Taking a deep breath, Agrias finished the spell, opening her eyes and raising her hand. She took in everything in front of her in an instant, the release of the potent holy magic slowing her perception greatly. The massive demon was bearing down on her, one meaty hand seeking to smash into her, as it had obviously realized the threat her incantation posed. Zalbag was a few steps in front of the beast, his sword abandoned and both arms open as he dove into the woman, driving her backward as that monstrous hand came closer, seeking to crush her skull in a vice grip.

Then the spell burst forth from Agrias' hand, slamming into the demon's chest in a brilliant display of holy light, and Zalbag shoved the Holy Knight to the dirt, shielding her body with his own. The beast's hand barely missed her face as it screamed in agony, the sound cut short as the spell purged the darkness from it, consuming the creature in an instant.

Agrias lay panting in the grass, her breath ragged, as she recovered from the toll such a spell took on the body. Zalbag planted his hands on the earth, rising enough to be sure she hadn't been hurt, and the Holy Knight could see relief flood into his features. Despite herself, she smiled warmly.

"You call that a distraction?" Agrias said sternly, though her expression gave her away.

"Oh, shut up. Here I save you, and all you can do is-"

Zalbag was cut off as Agrias gripped his chest plate, pulling him down roughly to press her lips against his. The two knights lie there for a long moment, surrounded by the sounds of battle and the bodies of those they had slain, and for that moment the entire world disappeared.

Agrias had never been very good at expressing her feelings; passion and affection got in the way of duty. In all her years she'd never imagined she could act on an impulse such as this, and it was only now that she realized how stupid she had been. So much time had been wasted on keeping her emotion locked away, hiding away from her feelings. It was the passion she had avoided that had given her allies the strength she lacked, and it had to be that strength that flowed through her now, dispelling the doubt she'd held for so long.

The moment passed, and as quickly as they had met their lips separated, the two warriors staring at each other. A slight smile touched Zalbag's lips, and the man bounded to his feet, as the Hokuten soldiers broke through the remnants of the Lucavi front rank and rushed to join them. The Arc Knight offered Agrias his hand, and as she took it the woman decided she would die before she left his side.

"Come on, we have a battle to win."

* * *

Ovelia had seen men injured and slain in combat, but she could never have prepared herself for _this_. The battle had only begun, and already wounded men and women were being dragged to the rear of the Army of Ivalice, where those skilled at healing and alchemy had been stationed. The Queen had never seen so much blood, and for the first time she was uncertain of her decision.

The battlefield was no place for a Queen, Ovelia knew that, and she had no skill with a weapon. She had only wanted to help, to lend aid to those that were fighting for her country. Delita had become so angry when she had asked if she could follow the army, and she had dropped the subject immediately, but only because she intended to do so with or without his leave.

So she had stolen away from her chambers, donning the white robes that disguised her true identity, and followed the army with the other healers. She hadn't second guessed her decision during the march to Bethla, but seeing the true carnage that open war could bring, Ovelia doubted herself. She should have never left Lesalia.

Shaking her head, the Queen willed herself to banish such thoughts. Everyone she cared about was in the valley in front of her, and she refused to allow them to risk their lives while she waited, tucked safely away. Her whole life she had been far from the conflict that revolved around her, and she could stand it no longer.

Kneeling next to the man that lay before her, Ovelia frowned, eyeing the wound along his left side. The soldier's face was a mask of pain, his breathing shallow as he closed his eyes, whispering to himself. Lifting the bloodstained tunic away from the injury, Ovelia covered her mouth in surprise. Three deep gashes, caused by wickedly sharp claws, had torn up his entire flank. Already the wound was becoming tainted, the creature that had slashed him defiling the man's flesh.

Closing her eyes, Ovelia placed her hands around the lacerations, thinking back on what she knew about white magic. Most of what Alma had taught her hadn't been curative in nature, but there were some healing incantations that Ovelia could recall. With the infection already setting in, she would have to focus to do the work properly.

Ovelia chanted slowly, deciding to first set about purifying the malady that was spreading from the wound, tendrils of healing energy dancing from her fingertips. She urged the energy into the soldier's flesh, driving away the sickness and destroying it. The magic was taxing, as Ovelia had spent little time practicing such things, and sweat slowly trickled down her cheeks as she worked.

After purging the infection, the Queen focused her attention on knitting the gashes closed, starting with the muscle and coaxing the man's own natural healing to work harder than usual. This was less efficient than the immediate healing magic that most could perform, but it was no less effective. It took little time to close the wounds, and Ovelia sat back, smiling slightly.

"Thank you, Your Majesty." The soldier whispered, his gaze direct and full of awe.

Ovelia gasped slightly, certain that the man would give her identity away, but instead he merely closed his eyes and fell into a restful sleep. Lingering for a moment, the Queen placed her hand on the young man's cheek, noting that he looked to be younger than she was, before she rose to her feet.

There were dozens of other knights and men at arms near her, and Ovelia wasted no time in making her way to the next soldier who needed her. She was ashamed that she had doubted herself only moments before. Her place was here, where she could actually serve a purpose, not sitting on her bed and wondering how many of her people were dying.

* * *

"Hold them here!" Cid shouted gruffly, dismounting as the Nanten cavalry, composed mainly of lancers and the Toutens, renowned for their skill on a mount, sought to push back the line of demons that had halted their charge.

The grizzled veteran noticed Gaff climbing off of his chocobo as well, beset by the same disadvantage as Cid. Both of them wielded blades that were too heavy to be used effectively from atop one of the beasts, and it hindered the use of their sword skills. Delita had remained mounted, so it fell upon him to remain visible for the Nanten troops.

Cid had other matters to deal with. The initial cavalry charge had been designed to push back the inner ranks of the Lucavi horde, to give the knights on their front line time to push through and gain some ground up the slope of the valley. Now, however, the mounted men were forced to hold their ground, as the gap they'd tried to open in the flanks had failed.

Cavalry weren't effective at sustained combat such as this, and unless Cid could get a route open, they would never be able to come around for another charge. Luckily some of the Nanten knights had punched through the demons first rank to come to the aid of their kin, or all might have been lost. Jogging behind the defensive line his men had formed, Cid and Gaff made for the left wing.

A handful of the Lucavi managed to get past the mounted soldiers, but the two aging knights barely broke their stride as they cut through them, both aware of the importance of their target. As Cid cut through a handful of the creatures, he saw what had hindered their original plan.

The Southern Sky's far left flank was hard pressed, and Cid was shocked to realize his knights were fighting their own countrymen. Soldiers wearing the colors of Limberry and Lionel hacked at the Nanten, and even at this distance Orlandu could sense something was wrong with them.

Gaff glanced at him warily as they moved toward the small battle, and as they grew closer Cid realized that the men that opposed them were no longer truly men. They were clearly soulless, under the control of the Lucavi, and they fought without regard for their own survival.

Cid wasted no time in rending aid to his knights. He and Gaff drove themselves into the cursed soldiers, their arrival heralded by the Nanten, who pushed ahead with renewed vigor. It sickened Cid to have to battle against men he once considered his allies, and many of them he knew by name. They were no longer the same knights he had once known, and it was a testament to the evil they faced that the Lucavi should defile their bodies in such a way.

The two veterans of the fifty year war, with the aid of the Nanten, made short work of their ash faced enemies, and the route for the cavalry to fall back for a second charge was opened quickly. Flinging black blood from his heavy sword, Cid turned his attention to the Dark Knight at his side.

"Keep this open as long as you can, I'll return to Delita." Cid said quickly, as Gaff grunted a response.

Striding toward the regent, grief and pity for the corrupted men he had slain fresh in his mind, Cid didn't initially notice the thunderous sound that approached him. Once the heavy pounding of hooves broke through to him, the Holy Swordsman spun on his heel, assessing this new threat.

Tearing through the Lucavi masses with no concern for the demons they bulled through, and entire regiment of dark cavalry were charging toward the Army of Ivalice. More of the cursed men rode atop alien creatures, gaunt and long legged. The beasts loped lazily over and through the Lucavi infantry, their slim forms belying the weight and power packed into lean frames, as split hooves tore into the earth beneath them. Each was a nightmare in its own right, jagged teeth gnashing together as they hurled toward the Nanten soldiers.

Ignoring the human cavalry entirely, these soulless men set their sights on the infantry that was giving their own ranks trouble, jagged glaives leveled in front of them as several shot past Cid. One particular corrupted soldier noted Cid's extended position, altering his mounts course slightly to attempt to impale the aging knight with a ferocious charge.

Burying half of his heavy sword into the soil at his side, Cid shifted his weight, snaring the shaft of the pike beneath his right arm, and gripped it tightly in weathered hands. The knight rotated with the momentum of the charge, thick arms straining as he used the cursed man's own weapon against him, flinging the fallen warrior from his mount and into another of his mounted kin.

Slowly flipping the pike around in one hand, distantly aware that both of his arms were somewhat numb from disarming his foe, Cid launched the length of wood and iron into another of the enemy cavalry. The puppet of a man was run clean through, flying backward off of the creature he rode and smashing hard to the ground.

Grunting from the strain on old joints, the Nanten General snatched his sword back up, and made his way toward line of cavalry that had passed him. He'd taken two steps when a flash of dark magic exploded in front of him, forcing Cid to shield his eyes with one arm. Turning toward the source of the spell, he was appalled to see the silver haired man that stalked toward him, the demons in his path seeming to melt away in reverence.

"Elmdore?" Cid asked, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword. "Have you too offered yourself to these monsters?"

The Marquis of Limberry was a shadow of his former self, as cursed and doomed as the knights that were fighting not far from him. Dark rings circled his eyes, forming jagged lines that crawled down his cheeks. The man was no longer the soft faced Silver Noble that Cid had fought with many times in the past, his unholy sacrifice leaving him a sallow faced shell of a man.

"Death holds no appeal to me, Thundergod. What harm was there in choosing the _power_ that was offered to me?"

"So you would become an abomination, condemning your soul, for some misbegotten strength?"

"You have no idea how it feels, you could never understand." Marquis Elmdore said, a malicious grin dominating his face. "Why don't I show you?"

Cid knew there would be no hope in talking his former ally off of his path, the man was too far gone, and thus he was prepared to battle Elmdore with no restraint. What he hadn't been prepared for, however, was the Marquis of Death's speed. In the blink of an eye the silver haired warrior had crossed the distance between them, appearing directly in front of Cid, with one hand on the hilt of his sheathed eastern sword.

Cid took a quick step back as Elmdore drew his long, slim blade, and the two warriors struck at each other at the same time. Excalibur and the Masamune collided with sharp, resounding peal, the clash of two of the most powerful blades in Ivalice resonating throughout the battlefield.

Still grinning, Elmdore leapt nimbly to the side, his feet barely touching the soft grass before he lunged at Cid again. Backing just out of range of the incredibly long, curved blade that the Marquis wielded, Cid slashed upward, unleashing one of his devastating sword arts at close range. An ethereal blue-black blade ascended from beneath Elmdore's feet, the air parting in its wake.

To Cid's dismay, the air was all that his attack was able to hit. Elmdore vanished the moment Cid had launched the skill, appearing instead at the Nanten veteran's side. Spinning, he managed to avoid most of the damage the man's counter thrust, the razor sharp blade of the Masamune making a glancing cut along his bicep. Swinging his heavy sword in a wicked arc, Cid sought to cleave the silver haired bastard in half.

Elmdore ducked low, the slash passing over his head close enough to take a few strands of his flowing hair with it, and rose with an upward cut of his own. Using the momentum of his swing to carry him to the side, Cid dodged the diagonal slash, planting one foot and lunging toward the rising warrior.

An armored fist impacted with the Marquis' face, sending the slim man reeling, his head snapping back from the force of the blow. Such a punch would have sent a mortal man sprawling, likely shattering the entire side of his face. Elmdore, however, was no longer mortal, and seemed to smile even broader as he wiped black blood from his chin.

The Marquis darted forward again, his movements a blur as he slashed downward at Cid, the Masamune's blade leaving a silver afterimage in its wake. Orlandu parried the cut easily, shifting his weight and rotating the grip on Excalibur to thrust the pommel toward Elmdore's nose.

His opponent, still grinning like a madman, snapped his head to the side to avoid the blow, but Cid had been expecting that. Elmdore was far faster than he, so Cid knew he would only land a blow if he was one step ahead of the Silver Noble. That pommel strike shifted instantly into a downward slash, Cid's free hand adding momentum to the cut by shoving the opposite side of the blade.

Realizing his error, the former Lord of Limberry leapt backward, arching his back as Excalibur came down toward his neck. The tip of the sword barely caught Elmdore in the chest, tearing through his light armor and making a shallow gash through his accursed flesh. Seeing the dark, oozing liquid that coalesced from the wound, Elmdore locked those once calm eyes on Cid, and his smile vanished. A flick of the wrist brought the Masamune up to meet Excalibur once more, and Cid was shocked to find that the impact jarred his shoulders, shoving him backward with a force that was far great than should be possible from a man as lean as Elmdore.

The aged knight didn't have a moment's respite, as Elmdore immediately reversed his grip to bring his blade back down. Neither man could reach each other with steel, so Cid knew what was coming, and raised his sword to try and dispel the magical strike. A thin wave of arcane energy flew from Elmdore's sword, slicing through the air between them, and met with Cid's weapon hard enough to almost cause his elbows to buckle.

Orlandu knew then that the Marquis had been holding back some of the power the Lucavi had bestowed upon him, as he unleashed a series of silver crescents of magical force, following each other so closely that Cid could do no more than keep Excalibur between himself and the attacks, knowing that if even one of them got past his guard it could certainly kill him.

He could feel the raw power of the crescents as they battered his sword, and him, backward. Each impact took some of the strength from his arms, making it more difficult to move his weapon into the path of the next. The Marquis speed surpassed Cid's by such a margin, even with Excalibur augmenting his abilities, that there was nothing he could do but keep the man off of him, and bide his time.

It wasn't until Elmdore finally broke off his ranged assault that Cid acted, confident of what the man would do next. The moment his opponent vanished, Cid turned and called upon his own abilities, a crimson spike of arcana leaping from the earth just as Elmdore appeared, and tearing through him. Cid had fought alongside the man long enough to know how he moved, and knew he had never been one to attack head on.

The Marquis of Limberry fell to one knee, bracing himself against the ground as he fought off the damage caused by Cid's attack. Not wishing to drag this out any longer, Cid raised Excalibur, preparing to end the fight with another powerful stroke.

At the apex of his swing, suddenly the veteran felt the strength go out of his arm, the appendage dropping heavily to his side. He stepped back in surprise, not immediately perceiving the loss of feeling. As he looked over to see the length of polished steel that pierced clean through his shoulder, warmth spread outward from the wound, swiftly becoming a searing heat.

Elmdore was crouched in front of him, glaring up at the Thundergod with those dark rimmed eyes, a smirk of malice upon his lips. The Marquis rose swiftly, yanking the Masamune from Cid's shoulder, and dragged the sword diagonally across the older man's chest. Armor and flesh parted easily as the well honed blade cut deep, sharp agony exploding across Cid's torso.

Raising his good arm, Cid clamped his hand around the man's throat, squeezing hard in an attempt to crush Elmdore's windpipe. The cursed man snarled, a low growl escaping parted lips, as he drew the Masamune back and thrust it into Cid's chest. The blade ran the Nanten Commander through, and Cid felt his strength begin to falter. His fingers slipped away from the Marquis' neck, as his legs gave out.

Falling to his side, Cid watched as his lifeblood was flung from Elmdore's sword with a flick of the wrist, and without a word the evil warrior turned and stalked toward his next victim. Orlandu coughed, the metallic flavor of blood filling his mouth, as he stared at the sword he had dropped upon falling.

There was surprisingly less pain now, and Cid's mind drifted far away from the battle that still raged around him. He thought of Olan mostly, recalling days when both he and his adopted son were younger men, and the smile he had maintained so much then came naturally. Despite the fifty year war, it had been a happy time for him.

It took the knight a moment to notice he had been rolled onto his back, and he found himself staring into the grizzled countenance of the Dark Knight who had fought beside him during that war. Gaff kneeled at his side with a handful of Nanten, who had formed a protective circle around them.

"Yours isn't the last face I'd have wanted to see." Cid said, coughing.

"We can't help the hand fate deals us, my friend." Gafgarion replied, frowning as he looked at Cid's chest.

Moving his arm required far more work than it should have, but Cid forced himself to do it, reaching into his armor to snatch the small silver article he kept hidden there. Pulling it out, he shoved it into Gaff's hand, leveling a serious gaze at the Touten.

"See that she gets this." He ordered, as Gafgarion gazed at the ring Cid had handed him.

"The seal of Gallione?" He asked, glancing at Cid. "How long have you carried this?"

"Since the day Ruvelia placed it in my hand."

"If it's the last thing I do, you old fool, I'll make sure she has it, and knows that it remained close to your heart."

Cid coughed once more, closing his eyes and drawing in as deep a breath as he could muster. Fire leapt upward through his chest, and he winced, opening his eyes to see that Gaff still remained at his side, and had snatched Excalibur from the dirt before the Lucavi could get to it. Nodding his approval, Cid felt his eyes swim out of focus, as darkness crept into his vision.

Sucking in a final breath in preparation for his journey, he let the darkness take him, knowing that he could face what came next without regret.

* * *

**Author's Note:** We have the first major casualty of the Battle of Bethla, and what a casualty it is. There are several baddies I saved for the final baddie, Elmdore being a late edition. I gave him a short appearance in the story before, and it was something of a Curbstomp Battle, so I decided he could come back with a vengeance. I hope this makes it clear how powerful the remaining foes to be faced have become, with the power of the Lucavi seated quite nicely in the mortal world.

Speaking of late editions, Ovelia's presence in the battle was decided the moment I got to the second scene of this chapter. I'd wanted to use her in the last chapter, and still did in some way, and it just kind of hit me, and I'm really glad I went with it. It also gave me a better purpose for another of the Ivalice warriors in the following chapters, and allows me to actually get some Delita/Ovelia time in before the story ends.

On that note, I'm going to slip back into the previous chapter and edit a couple of things here in a minute. With Ovelia appearing now, and the opinions of some of my most dedicated reviewers (You guys are my only real editors, after all), I want to _show_ you their interaction. I was always of the opinion that Delita did love Ovelia in canon, but without anyone to check his ambition, the power he received upon becoming king pushed that away. His concern for her earlier in the game seemed genuine, and it was later that he lost his way, in my opinion.

The final battle is going to be divided between the characters often, as each is dealing with their own 'Bosses' and objectives. I'm going to be weaving it all together, which will have characters stumbling into each other across the chapters, and if it works like I hope it should mesh pretty well. Not much else to say about the chapter, except that I think Agrias/Zalbag has finally grown on me as much as it has those reading. They really do seem to fit, at least to me.

**Caellach:** Got your PM, and roger that, I've been there as well. So I never actually wanted to straight up remove the interactions from the breather chapter I decided not to include, and I've been working on incorporating it into the actual battle. Agrias and Zalbag's interaction here, I feel, worked out much better than what I had in mind before. Ovelia's presence is also an attempt at that, as I wanted to include her as well. She really saw very little of the light in the story. You'll probably end up getting the interactions you missed in a more roundabout way, which should add a little extra length to the final few chapters. I see it as a good thing though.

**Vegeta the 3rd:** You're my hero. Seriously. I'm gonna be Word of Godding the hell out of that page. Maybe. I agree that I kind of screwed the pooch on Worker 7, and I think it was because I managed to get sidetracked and spaced off what actually happened to him. I'll have to dig through my notes and see if I can find anything, because I have no idea what my original plan was! Well, you heard from Ovelia, and she'll be in a chapter or two more before the end.

**InXain:** I whipped that speech of Zalbag's up on the spot, and just kind of went with it, and thanks for the words on it. I think it turned out nicely. Rattletrap will definitely be making an appearance, I've been slowly building up to him entering the fray. Hopefully it ups the HSQ.

I hope you all enjoyed the first of... I don't even know how many chapters in the final battle, and can not hate me for giving Cid the Axe; Or Samurai Sword, if you will.


	34. The Skies of Ivalice

**Chapter Thirty Four: The Skies of Ivalice**

* * *

The sounds of battle could be heard easily from the Valefor, but as much as Mustadio wanted to rush to the side of the airship to see how his friends were faring below, his attention was needed in the sky. Wind whipped across his face as they flew toward the Lucavi fleet, the machinist gripping the helm of his ship so hard his knuckles were white. The pit in his stomach hadn't left since he'd seen just how many demons they were up against, no matter how hard he tried to push it out. He was no warrior or knight, and hadn't the stomach for war such as this. He could only silently hope he didn't make a mistake, and that he and Olan had gotten everything right.

"Your hand is shaking." Celia mused, raising one eyebrow at him, and covering it with hers.

"I must be excited." Mustadio replied with a small smile, hiding his own doubts. "I'll finally get to test the Valefor out."

The woman nodded shallowly at him, and it wasn't the first time Mustadio was glad to have the twins around. They were hard and deadly, but there was something else to the women that he found intriguing. Plus they were there to keep him alive, which was definitely an upside.

"It's time." Ramza called from the bow of the ship, turning to glance back at Mustadio.

"Right." The machinist said, leaving the helm in the hands of one of the girls as he vaulted down the three stairs to the main deck. "I hope this thing works as Olan said it would, otherwise we're all dead and our friends get to enjoy some pretty big fireworks."

Jogging toward Rattletrap, Mustadio tugged on a pair of soft leather gloves. He wasn't sure if the device would cause him harm, but he figured a little extra protection wouldn't hurt. Nobody had tried to build something like this before, so it was no telling just how well it would work.

"Okay buddy, pull." He ordered the steel golem, as a handful of other men helped Mustadio slide the two heavy steel plates that covered the deck aside, revealing a large hole.

Rattletrap heaved on the thick line in his fists, the massive construct that had been housed below deck rising smoothly to the surface. There it remained suspended, as the metal plates were placed below it once more. Without being ordered the golem lowered the weapon back down, piquing Mustadio's curiosity for the thousandth time about how such a machine, that seemed to genuinely think, could be constructed.

The machinist jumped into the makeshift chair that had been built behind the large cannon, and he began cranking hard to raise the barrel of the weapon skyward. The device took up a good portion of the deck, and as he adjusted it the men on deck secured it to the Valefor to prevent it from sliding around. Gazing down the barrel with trepidation, Mustadio finished pointing the weapon at the sky. There was no way to accurately aim something like this, so he would have to eyeball it. If the Peacemaker, as Lede had jokingly called it, worked as it was supposed to, he wouldn't have to be too worried about his aim anyway.

"Well, here goes nothing." Mustadio said with a shrug, leaning over to be certain that Aries was securely inserted.

Closing his eyes, the machinist took a breath, and pulled a pair of handles back, which caused a massive cylinder the slam into the bottom of the cannon. His vision still dark, Mustadio wondered if perhaps the Peacemaker had been so loud it had deafened him. No, he could still hear the wind rushing past him, and the sound of Rattletraps gears not far behind the cannon.

"Wonderful," He began, frustrated. "All that work and now the blasted thing doesn't-"

The force of the blast stole the words from his lips, as the cannon fired into the sky. It was as though the heavens had exploded in his lap, the thunder above Bethla a mere whisper as a massive shockwave emanated from the barrel of the weapon. At the helm, Celia and Lede both struggled to keep the Valefor straight, as the recoil from the Peacemaker literally shoved the airship closer to the earth.

Rolling out of the seat attached to the cannon, Mustadio stumbled to his feet, rubbing his ringing ears as he sought to see the result. The sphere that had been loosed, a twin image of the late afternoon sun in the west, ascended through the dark clouds above them. Even at this distance Mustadio could still feel some of the heat from it, and was in awe of just how much power they had managed to harness using the holy stone.

As the fireball reached the height of its journey, arching through the sky, Mustadio held his breath. Firing the damn thing was only half the battle, and if the magical artillery didn't do what it was supposed to then the fight for the skies was about to become much more difficult.

"Come on, come on…" Mustadio whispered, barely hearing his own words over the damage to his ears.

With a brilliant display of light the fireball exploded, illuminating itself against the dark backdrop of storm clouds, and Mustadio couldn't help but leap into the air with a shout. As one fiery sphere turned into dozens, spawning a rain of flames that fell toward the airships and the Lucavi horde below, Mustadio sprinted back up to the helm. Laughing, he pulled the first twin he reached into his arms, unsure of which it was in his excitement. Celia, Lede, who the hell cared, _it worked_!

* * *

Izlude held tight to the reins of his mount, eyes focused on the airships ahead of him as they drifted in front of the fortress, forming a blockade to keep the Blades at bay. Beneath him Atro chirruped, a deep throaty sound of anticipation, and the young knight appreciated Ramza's mount even more than he had when it had decided to aid them during the siege of Lesalia. Many of the other black chocobos were skiddish, and his men had to constantly force them onward. Atro, however, seemed to look forward to the coming battle.

As the ground passed beneath him and the enemy fleet grew closer, Izlude glanced over his shoulder. He wasn't sure exactly what Mustadio's new toy was supposed to sound like, but he knew what to expect if it worked. He and the Blade's had gone over the strategy in depth before they took to the sky, and he only hoped the machinist and Olan knew what they were doing.

The knight was torn from his thoughts as the weapon was fired, and each of the Blades turned in their saddles to watch as the fireball flew high above them. A moment later a weak wave of pressure washed over them, ruffling the feathers of their mounts and setting the birds on edge. Izlude had to admit that if nothing else, the cannon was flashy.

"Blades!" He cried over the whipping wind. "Take the sky from them!"

As one the soldiers pulled on their reins, urging the chocobos into a vertical climb. Wings pumping hard, Atro pushed hard to the front, no fear in him as he rose higher into the sky. The Knight Blades drove their mounts upward as the fireball exploded, splitting into numerous orbs of flame that fell back toward the earth, and the knights that rose to meet them.

Leaning down against his mounts back, Izlude found that Atro needed no guidance. The chocobo moved unerringly skyward, tucking one wing to slide toward the left, well out of the way of the first fireball. As the rain of fire descended, the Knight Blades deftly swept back and forth to avoid the ones that had managed to spread out far enough to reach them.

The timing couldn't have been better. They would come out close enough to quickly move to engage the enemy fleet, and had they been much closer to the center of the conflagration they might not have made it past the arcane artillery. The Blades continued up as the inferno passed them, struggling to avoid the last of the descending spellwork. Turning his face away from the heat of the final sphere of flame, Izlude tugged gently on Atro's reins, his mount leading the others as they turned in midair. Tucking their wings, the chocobos began to plummet back down, hot on the heels of the descending flames.

Several of the enemy ships were decimated instantly as they were struck, careening and falling away as they were consumed by the magical fire. The Blades maintained their discipline as they lined up for those that had been missed, the firestorm making its way toward the mass of demons below. The human lines quickly fell back as the inferno fell upon the Lucavi, already prepared for the devastation it would cause. Izlude broke off, heading toward one of the larger airships near the center of their formation.

Like a stone from the heavens he fell, holding tightly to Atro as the chocobo closed the distance to the ship. At the last moment the bird threw its wings out, catching the air and snapping upright in an instant, rocketing toward the deck of the craft. Izlude tensed, letting his mount get as close as possible to the airship before he dove free.

He was the first Blade on deck, and landed a little harder than he'd have liked, rolling roughly across the rotting wood and bounding to his feet. As he drew his blade Izlude quickly took stock of those that made up the crew, while several more of his men landed near him. Unlike the others that made up the army of Ivalice, Izlude had expected to encounter men that had been corrupted by the Lucavi. He'd seen through a demon's eyes, and known the depths of their depravity and how they could use the greed of lesser men. He would show these lost souls no quarter.

Chaos reigned on the deck of the airship, as the corrupted men from the lost province of Lionel scrambled to deal with the unexpected blaze that had fallen from the heavens, and Izlude used that to his advantage. He rushed ahead of the other Blades who had joined him, cutting his way through a handful of soulless men before those that remained could begin to mount a defense. The hiss of arrows falling from above further harrowed the demon stained souls, as more of the Knight Blades fired longbows from their mounts. Izlude pushed ahead, his knights at his side, and fought harder than he ever had before.

Impaling the arm of a Lionel soldier as he swung, Izlude relieved him of his blade, driving the man's own sword into his chest and shoving him to the deck. The commander shifted forward, parrying a descending blade, and slammed the pommel of his sword into his attacker's mouth. The corrupted knight was no longer hindered by such distractions as pain, but the force of the blow gave Izlude room to bring his sword around to remove the man's head from his neck before moving on.

He quickly cut a swath through the men on the deck, forcing his soldiers to move twice as quickly just to keep up, and took such a toll that several of the demon-kin abandoned the skirmish altogether. Those men opted for a more abrupt death, throwing themselves over the side of the airship to meet their end on the earth below.

Slicing a knight from shoulder to hip and kicking him clear, Izlude spun, thrusting his sword deep into the back of another, who sought to finish off a downed Blade. Releasing the hold on his weapon, Izlude snatched a crossbow from the deck, raising it and firing in a single motion. The bolt tore through the air to impact with the throat of the tainted man at the helm. With most of the crew of the ship dead, and now without a pilot, the vessel began to slowly turn in a slow circle. As it descended toward the ground, Izlude snatched his sword back, and jogged to the side of the ship.

Atro was not far off, assaulting a handful of the remaining enemies from the air. Glancing down, Izlude spotted another of the Lucavi ships below, a handful of knights attempting to push their way across the deck. Izlude took a few steps back, sucking in a deep breath, and charged forward. Planting his foot on the railing of the falling ship, he launched himself down toward the next, prepared to cut down anything that stood in his way.

* * *

"Why exactly aren't we moving?" Celia asked, crouching next to Mustadio as he dug through some of the machinery in the airship.

"I don't know," He replied, before attempting to dispel the look of disappointment the woman gave him. "Yet. I'll figure it out, just give me a moment. Firing the Peacemaker seems to have done… something."

"Well take your time," Lede added. "We're not at war or anything."

Biting down on his cheek, the machinist let his torso hang down the small door he'd opened a moment before. For the life of him he couldn't see anything wrong with the Valefor, but he was thankful that they were at least still in the air. The stone was still providing the ship with the ability to fly, but there seemed to be no way to make it move.

"Blasted hunk of worthless metal." He said quietly, inspecting parts that he honestly still didn't know the purpose of.

"You, machinist, does this thing work?" Wiegraf asked from behind him, instantly causing Mustadio to shoot back up from his position.

"Don't touch anything! Oh, that, of course."

The knight stood at the back of the Valefor, looking over the arbalest that had been installed there. The massive mounted crossbow had a bolt the size of a lance, with a length of rope attached to the back of it. Mustadio wasn't sure what it was designed for when he hauled it from below decks, but it was a weapon, and they could use all that they had.

"Good," The man replied, cranking back the bolt. "I need to use it."

"For what?" Mustadio called, jogging over to see what the enigmatic knight, whom the machinist didn't trust one bit, was going to waste it on.

"Look." He said sternly, gesturing at the battlefield below them.

What Mustadio saw shocked him and dropped that heavy weight back into his gut. A group of demons had spawned from nowhere, it seemed, and had managed to get behind the entire human army. They had beset themselves on the healers that were gathered to the rear of the forces of Ivalice, and with few soldiers there to help, it didn't look good.

"They'll all be killed." Ramza said quietly, his gaze locked on the struggling men and women as well, before he glanced at Wiegraf. "Go."

The man nodded shallowly in agreement, before aiming the arbalest at the ground below. If not for the recoil of the cannon lowering their altitude, the bolt probably wouldn't have reached at all. Wiegraf pulled the trigger, and with a resounding snap the bolt was fired. It flew through the air for but a moment before sinking deep into the soft earth, the line behind it trailing to the Valefor.

"Once I'm down, cut it." The man said, as he unhooked his sword from his belt, and leapt over the side.

Wiegraf used the sheath to slide down the length of rope, hurtling rapidly toward the ground. It took him only a handful of seconds to reach the ground, where he rolled to his feet and sprinted toward the besieged healers, and Ramza slipped his right arm out of his cloak to smoothly cut the rope free with a dagger.

"He's on his own, and we need to get this ship moving, _now_."

There was an unsettling seriousness to Ramza's tone as he gave the order, and Mustadio followed his gaze. He understood instantly the urgency in the Dark Knight's voice. What swept across the plains toward them stole the breath from his lungs, and fear leapt into his throat.

"What the hell is _that_?" Mustadio whispered, as the creatures hurled through the sky.

The three headed beasts rushed toward the Valefor, leathery wings beating furiously as they crossed the valley. There were a hundred of them is there was one, but it wasn't the strange winged beasts that dragged Mustadio's heart into his stomach, it was the creature behind them.

It was a dragon, that much was clear, but its size was unbelievable. It was easily three times the size of the Valefor, so large that it shouldn't have even been able to glide, let alone fly. Yet it flew toward them at a terrible speed from the west, blackened wings blotting out the falling sun. Even at this distance, light glinted visibly off of the dark scales that acted as natural armor.

"I really don't think we want to be here." Celia noted drily, taking Mustadio's face in surprisingly soft hands, and forcing him to look to the east.

A second dragon, deep crimson in color, rolled lithely around the garrison, tearing through the sky toward them. It roared defiantly, the sound sending a chill up the machinist's spine. He couldn't imagine where such terrible beasts had come from, but they seemed quite intent on the Valefor, and the humans that were on it. From below, where the crew Mustadio assembled remained, cries of alarm went out.

"Mustadio!" Ramza shouted, bringing him back to his senses. "_Move_!"

* * *

Yanking his blade free from a fallen knight, Izlude surveyed the third drifting airship his men had purged. The young Tingel wiped sweat from his brow, sucking in a breath of the tainted air, and turned to issue orders to those around him. Before he could utter a word, a distant roar ripped through the sky, and as one the Blades turned to take in this new threat.

Izlude took an involuntary step back as he saw the massive beasts on a course for the Valefor. For a moment he froze, unable to think. The sheer size of the dragons beggared description, and despair gripped his heart. If the Lucavi were able to bring creatures such as these to bear, what chance did they have for victory? Shaking his head to clear it, the commander of the Blades turned to the confused men around him, forcing such thoughts away.

"Back to the Valefor!"

Izlude was moving even as he shouted out the order, leaping onto the waiting Atro, who nervously paced on the deck as he watched the airship with a pair of dark orbs. The chocobo was airborne before Izlude had fully settled into the saddle, wings pumping for speed as he rushed ahead. The Knight Blades that hadn't heard the order still understood the gravity of the situation, and those that were able took to the skies as well.

Izlude hadn't gone far when a strange feeling came over him, and he glanced back at the garrison behind him. Yanking on Atro's reins, the knight forced his mount to turn back, seeing the one thing that would keep him from rushing to the aid of his friends. Far off, standing atop the spire that had been built in the middle of the fort, was Alma.

Atro fought against the reins, seeking to turn and aid his master back on the Valefor, and Izlude urged the chocobo on even harder. Alma was there, _right there_, and he wasn't going to risk losing her again. Not when he could see her with his own eyes.

"Just drop me off there and return to Ramza." He whispered to the bird, patting Atro's neck gently. "That's all I ask of you."

The chocobo seemed to understand, and reluctantly allowed Izlude to guide him toward the tower. Dodging stray arrows from the Lucavi airships, Izlude and Atro bobbed and weaved upward, the temperature dropping quickly as they neared the garrison.

Passing over the fortified walls, Izlude was surprised to see that there seemed to be no demons within Bethla. It was as though the Lucavi had sent all of their forces out, leaving only Alma and his sister within the confines of the fort. It would make things easier if the humans could stop their army outside, but if Izlude could reach Alma this all might be over. He _knew_ he could get through to her.

Reaching the tower, Atro ascended straight up, kicking off against the stone to gain speed. Izlude rose and rose, finally reaching the top of the spire and clearing it. The chocobo circled it warily, glancing back at Izlude for a moment in trepidation.

"It's fine, let me down." Izlude reassured the mount, and Atro did as asked.

Hopping off, he motioned for the nervous bird to depart, and with a glance back Atro flew toward the Valefor. Cold wind whipped across Izlude as he turned to come face to face with the woman he loved. Alma's appearance was largely the same as was ingrained in his memory, though her hair appeared to have a silvery tint to it. She was beautiful and tender, and cold and ruthless, all in the same instant.

Gone was the more humble attire that Alma had donned when Izlude had known her, replaced by something that was scandalous at best. Altima wore a loose fitting cloak, open in the front, with a crimson bit of fabric covering her torso. Despite the cold the Lucavi left the legs and stomach of its host body bare, exposed to the elements and eyes of any who looked upon her slender frame.

"May I help you?" Altima's incarnation asked lightly, cocking her head to one side.

"Release the girl." Izlude ordered, slowly walking toward the Lucavi.

"That's right, you're the one Morrigan revived, aren't you?" She replied, smiling. "I see you got rid of your dark passenger."

"Yes, and I've come to rid Alma of hers as well."

Altima laughed, bubbly and yet dark, and covered her lips with one delicate hand. Izlude felt anger building inside of him at the abomination that had taken Alma, and struggled to maintain his composure. He was aware of what the Lucavi was after, and why it had required Alma as its host. He most likely knew more about the demons than any living man, even Ramza, but that did little to dissuade his fears.

"Alma, I know-"

"Don't bother, she can't hear you." The Lucavi interrupted, shrugging. "Not right now, at least."

"Let her go, you've already gotten out of the abyss, you no longer need her."

"Oh, I'm afraid I do." Altima replied, as the dark clouds above them began to gather. "You see I cannot exist here, yet, without her. With time I will find some method to do away with this mortal sack of flesh, and if you live to see that day, perhaps you will see her as well."

"Release her!" Izlude cried, charging toward the Lucavi.

A wave of force struck him as he neared Altima, picking Izlude up and throwing him bodily to the stone beneath their feet. The knight slid back, rolling several times, the breath knocked from him with the impact. Slowly the Knight Blade rose, using his sword to help him to his feet.

"You are a tenacious one, aren't you?" Altima said with a small laugh. "I didn't come up here to chat, however you're welcome to stay and watch."

"Watch what?"

"Call it an… ascension." The Lucavi replied with a wry smile, amused at its own private joke.

Alma's small form moved to the middle of the tower, a shimmering wall of arcane force preventing Izlude from getting closer. The knight backed to the edge of the spire, glancing quickly behind him to the ground below. The entire tower seemed to shiver in anticipation, a tremble running through the garrison as Altima slowly raised both hands to the sky.

The Lucavi drifted upward, feet no longer planted on the stone and mortar, and the trembling rapidly grew. Izlude had to drop to one knee to keep some semblance of balance, as the entire world seemed to quake beneath him. A deep rumbling arose from far below, working in tandem with the black clouds high above, and Izlude heard the crack of shattering stone and rock.

A feeling of vertigo overcame him for a moment, as the young Tingel realized they were rising into the air. An incredible wave of sound emanated from below, as the entire fort began to break free of the earth that it had been rooted to. The demon was raising the garrison from the ground, ripping it from Ivalice itself to become a fortress in the sky.

Glancing down, Izlude could see dark crimson tendrils of magic dancing through the tower and the other newly constructed areas of the fort. The arcane energy flowed through them like the blood running through his veins, augmenting Altima's power and allowing for such an incredible feat. Izlude understood what the demon was doing immediately.

Altima wanted the entire world, and it planned to use this sky fortress to travel across the sea, to the more distant lands of Ivalice. He understood the power the Lucavi was wielding without knowing how to do the same, as the dark seed that had been planted in him had left him with a foggy knowledge of their kind.

Rising to his feet, Izlude rushed forward as the garrison continued skyward, slamming his shoulder into the shield Altima had erected. It was useless, he knew that, but he couldn't simply watch as this monster used Alma. Bouncing off the shimmering field, Izlude pounded desperately, his mind racing in an attempt to think of some way to get to the woman within.

"This time," Altima said lightly, smiling darkly at the knight. "Nothing will stand in my way."

As he stared into the eyes of the woman he had lost to the darkness, Izlude felt the tower begin to crumble beneath his feet.

* * *

"You need to do something." Lede said calmly, her gaze darting back and forth between the two dragons that were bearing down upon the Valefor.

"I'm thinking!" Mustadio replied, as he scrambled across the airship, the twins only a step behind him.

Stuttering to a halt at the holy stone that powered the large vessel, the machinist dropped to his knees, and practically tore open the device that held it. He knew he wouldn't be able to make sense of the internal workings of the Valefor without years of analysis and study, but he needed to figure something out within the next few moments or they were all dead.

"It has to be the power supply. The ship isn't using the full potential of the stone. That must be it."

"Then fix it." Celia noted, sucking in a quick breath as the red dragon loomed, closing the distance to them fast.

"I don't know how!" Mustadio shot back, settling onto his heels. "This is ancient technology, and I've hardly had the time to sort it all out!"

"Then we improvise." Lede said quickly over the growing roar that came over them, stepping forward and reaching for Libra.

"No, don't do that!" Mustadio cried, as the woman snatched it up, leaving the Valefor without power.

The airship plummeted, dropping like a stone, just as the two massive creatures reached each other. Despite his impending death, the machinist kept his gaze locked on the dragons as they collided, clawing and snapping at each other in midair. He clung tenaciously to the ship, the Valefor groaning as it fell toward the earth. Wind whipped past them as the descended, the struggling forms of the dragons directly above the ship.

Lede lunged forward to snap the holy stone back into its housing, and as quickly as the ship had fallen it righted itself. The Valefor's bow came back up, and began to rush forward again, power restored to the massive craft. Mustadio stumbled to his feet, his mouth agape.

"Brilliant, why didn't I think of that?" The machinist mused, making his way to the helm. "It just needed to be reset."

Bringing the ship around quickly, Mustadio forced the Valefor to gain altitude, continually glancing at the dragons as they fought. The beasts tore at each other as they rolled through the air, massive wings knocking aside any of the much smaller Lucavi beasts that ventured too close. Why would the dragons give up on the airship and turn on each other isntead? Had the Lucavi unwittingly brought these creatures into the world, only to be unable to control them?

It was a sight to behold, and with the chaos all around them, it was as though the two dragons were performing an intricate dance. They moved in tandem, slowly flipping through the air, each roar that came from their throats full of anger. Mustadio would have simply drifted along, watching, if the sound of earth being torn apart hadn't stolen his attention.

So much was happening at once that the machinist had trouble taking it all in. Above them the dragons battled for control of the sky, while the Knight Blades had arrived to engage the smaller, three headed beasts that the Lucavi had summoned. The sounds of battle were muffled by the shock of all that was happening, but the massive crack of stone being split broke through it easily.

Mustadio's gaze jerked toward Bethla Garrison, as the man unconsciously brought the Valefor around toward it. Though his expression was blank, the machinist couldn't believe what he was witnessing. The fort itself, every ounce of stone and mortar, was being torn from the ground beneath it. It was lifted skyward, massive chunks of dirt and rock falling away, and Mustadio was in awe of whatever power could rip the fortress from the earth.

"Get me up there."

He wasn't sure when Ramza had arrived beside him, but he obeyed without question. The Valefor climbed higher into the sky, following the fort as it ascended high above the battle that raged below. Mustadio glanced back to see that the Lucavi airships were in pursuit as they rose into the sky, and he shouted a warning to the men that waited below deck.

"Is that Izlude?" Celia asked, squinting up at the tower that loomed above them.

"Yes." Ramza replied, striding quickly to the bow of the ship.

Mustadio forced the Valefor higher, circling the tower, his eyes locked on the knight that stood atop it. He couldn't see what had drawn the man to the garrison, but with a shocked realization he noticed that the spire seemed to be leaning forward. As the four of them watched, the tower began to fall, taking Izlude with it.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So with everything that is going on, which I almost feel is too hectic, I have decided to break up the air battle into two separate chapters. If I crammed all of it into this one it would be way to much happening at once, and this way I'm better able to thread both planes of the final battle together, ground and air, with the proper overlap.

That said, this was a pain in the ass to try and write. I have so much that I need to get through that I somewhat feel like it bounces around too much when in Mustadio's POV. There was very little Ship to Ship combat, but I promise that will occur much more in the next airship chapter.

This is one that I am really going to need input on. It was difficult to put together, and I'm not quite sure how it looks from a reader standpoint. So please tell me if it doesn't seem to work, or feels off somehow, so I can make adjustments as needed. I may have to go back and add some length, or breaks, to the chapter if it feels wrong, but looking at it from my perspective I might not be the best judge of if it is. What did you like, and what didn't you like?


	35. The Stalwart

**Chapter Thirty-Five: The Stalwart**

* * *

Delita was waist deep in demons when fire began to rain from the sky. He remained at the front of the Nanten lines, surrounded by his personal vanguard, as the Southern Sky pressed on against the Lucavi horde. They'd been fighting without a break for what felt like days, and each demon they cut down seemed to be replaced by two more. Still the men endured, drawing on reserves they didn't know they possessed, holding ranks against the legions of the abyss.

The explosion, high above, brought a momentary halt to the combat. Both humans and demons alike paused in their bloodthirsty battle to cast their eyes skyward. It was a beautiful sight to Delita, that miniature sun ascending into the air, and not only because he knew what would follow. As the fireball split, Delita reined his chocobo around, crying out as he motioned the Nanten back.

"Fall back! Retreat to the second ranks!"

The soldiers around him knew nothing of the Valefor's weapon, but they had the simple wisdom to realize what was happening. Without hesitation the left flank turned and rushed quickly away from the horde, under cover of archers to their rear. The few demons that pursued them were quickly felled by either the cavalry that covered the retreat, or the arrows that fell upon them from above.

Delita halted his mount, ordering fresh soldiers to the front to give the men he'd been fighting with a break. As the knights rotated, he watched the devastation. The massive spheres of flame fell straight into the Lucavi army, exploding in a brilliant display of orange and yellow, all over the battlefield. Even so far away Delita could feel the heat of the magical fire, and hear the tortured screams of the demons that were consumed by it. Despite himself, a small smile appeared on his face.

"My Liege, is that Gafgarion?"

Shifting his gaze to where the knight indicated Delita felt his mouth fall agape. The Dark Knight, buffeted by a handful Nanten Knights, strode out from _inside_ the Lucavi lines. Covered in the blood of both demon and man, Gaff tossed aside one of the smaller creatures, gripping it by the throat and hurling it into its ilk. The Nanten at his side carried their wounded with them, including, to Delita's shock, Cidolfas Orlandu.

The soldiers of the Southern Sky were silent as Gaff reached them, and it was only then that Delita noticed he was carrying Cid's legendary sword in his hand. The men with him immediately rejoined the army, as Gaff approached him. Without a word the grizzled knight snatched the water pouch from Delita's chocobo, downing half of it before turning to the regent.

"Cid is dead." He said, as the man carrying the general laid him reverently on the grass. "Elmdore is with them, and he is… formidable."

Delita stared down at Orlandu, his voice lost. Thundergod Cid was the greatest warrior of the Southern Sky, and after the death of Balbanes Beoulve, perhaps the best in all of Ivalice. It was no exaggerated legend, it was fact. There was no greater swordsman than Cid, and now he was dead. Delita could feel the despair of the men around him, and he couldn't find the words to restore his own hope, let alone them.

"Lord Hyral!" A soldier cried, rushing toward him, out of breath. "A small contingent of the demons has appeared behind the army. They attack as we speak."

"The healers?" Delita replied, frowning in concern.

There was no time to grieve for the lost Orlandu, and they couldn't afford to let his death affect them. This battle was not over, and it would only be a moment before the Lucavi recovered from the Valefor's attack. Turning to Gaff, Delita took a deep breath, steeling himself.

"Hold them here." He ordered the Dark Knight, before motioning to a group of soldiers. "You men come with me; we're going to aid the rear."

The knights he'd recruited climbed onto what chocobos they could find, and the group turned and made their way toward the rear of the army. As Delita weaved his mount between the soldiers, he could hear Gaff as he took charge of the Nanten front.

"You heard him!" The Dark Knight shouted grimly. "We'll break them here, and push each of the bastards back into hell, in the name of Thundergod Cid!"

* * *

The flames of judgment were still burning through the horde when Val and Olan, on the far right flank, pushed ahead. The rest of Hokuten lagged behind for a moment, in awe of the destructive force that had fallen upon the Lucavi, but the Bervenian men followed without hesitation. Valmafra and Olan had fought beside them before, and the free men knew the mages wouldn't lead them into anything they couldn't handle.

In short order the Northern Sky followed suit, not wanting to be outdone by mere men at arms, and the demons fell back against the onslaught. Val was nervous about using her sorcery in such close proximity, where one mistake could cost men their lives, so she opted to weaken the Lucavi forces behind the front line. She called bolts of lightning from the sky to buffet the demons further back, as Olan used his unique time magic to halt dozens in their tracks.

With the two sorcerer's aid, the Hokuten carved a swath through the horde's front rank, cutting it to shreds and pushing farther into their depths than any had been so far. Val continued assaulting the Lucavi legions with more basic magic, weakening them before the Hokuten and Bervenians met with claws and teeth.

She wasn't initially aware of the precision attack that drove into the flank of the demons, surgically precise and deadly, until she saw the Galthana siblings deep within the Lucavi in front of her. The two assassins had been tasked with finding weaknesses in the enemy forces, and then to use the Kamyuja to exploit them. With the elite team of assassins at their back, and the opportunity to use their unique skills to their fullest, Rafa and Malak decimated any that stood before them.

Val let a smile touch her lips, as the dark haired warriors tore through the Lucavi. She'd studied beside Rafa much during her time in Riovanes, and knew just how deadly, if imprecise, their Heaven and Hell magic could be. The demon horde was so compact, grouped tightly together behind the front line, that Rafa and Malak's magic became a force to be reckoned with.

As Valmafra watched, dozens of Lucavi minions were blasted into their brethren, while even more struggled to get away from the deadly spells that continued to come from seemingly nowhere. The Kamyuja had grouped tightly around their leaders, tearing apart any demon that ventured close to try and cut the Galthana's down, and they were murderously effective.

Urging the right flank forward, Val pushed toward the assassins, halting the advance as she neared the two dark skinned warriors. Malak nodded once to her before continuing on, harassing the demons with his fellow orphan soldiers, as Rafa jogged toward Val and Olan.

"You'd better hurry up," The girl called from a short distance, a wry smirk touching her lips. "Or you'll miss all the action."

"You and Malak seem to have it under control." Val shouted back, smiling.

"What can I say, we know our craft. You seem to have learned a thing or two since last we fought together. Care to show me what you can _really_ do?"

Val had taken only two steps toward the girl when Rafa stumbled forward, a confused look falling over her face. The Heaven Knight looked down, perplexed, at the lance of ice that protruded from her chest. Though her mouth had fallen open, Valmafra could produce no sound as she sprinted toward the girl. It was only a handful of steps between them, but it felt like an eternity before Val reached her, as Rafa fell forward in a heap.

"Rafa!" She cried, hearing herself mirrored by Malak's emotion torn voice.

As Val slowly lowered Rafa to the ground, she saw the source of the spell that felled her; the one man that could still bring a chill to her heart. Kletian Drowa smiled darkly at her across the distance, as Malak broke away from the Kamyuja and charged him. Valmafra turned her attention to Rafa, the sharp cracks of Malak's magic drifting over to her.

The dark haired girl was still and quiet, her eyes open and face slack, locked into that confused expression she'd held before she fell. Val knew she was gone before having to check for signs of life; Rafa's eyes said enough. They'd always been vibrant and full of spirit, despite the lifestyle she'd been raised for. There was no darkness in Rafa, and she remained the only person Val had ever met who was so pure of heart.

Distantly she felt Olan's hand on her shoulder, a gentle squeeze filtering through her anger and sorrow. Tears welled in her eyes, but Val gave them no leave. It did Rafa no good now, and it would only distract her from what she had to do. With one hand Val closed the young Galthana's eyes for the last time, placing the girl's hands over the wound the spell had made.

"Watch over her." She said quietly, glancing at Olan.

"Of course," The man replied, taking her hand as she stood. "But what are you going to do?"

"Give Rafa her last request." She said coldly, turning her gaze toward Kletian. "I'm going to show her what I can really do."

Paying no heed to the battle that still raged around her, Val stalked toward the sorcerer, as Malak leapt into the air. The Galthana fell toward Kletian's head, giving up on his Hell Knight skills in his rage, and bringing the heavy staff in his hands to bear. He never even came close.

With a flick of the wrist Kletian struck the assassin with a wave of force, flinging Malak backward as though he weighed nothing at all. The man struck the earth hard, bouncing twice before falling still, as the Kamyuja rushed to his aid. Valmafra was uncertain how badly he was injured, and at the moment she couldn't check. Her gaze remained locked on Kletian as he smiled at her.

A handful of demons rose to meet her, speaking darkly in an unknown tongue as they moved between Val and the sorcerer. The woman spoke under her breath, without breaking stride, and with a sweep of an arm the creatures were met with flames. A wall of fire sprang forth beneath them, fueled by anger so hot core of the inferno was a brilliant blue, and consumed the demons before many of them could understand what had happened.

"It's been some time, apprentice." Kletian said amiably, rubbing both hands together in anticipation from the other side of the flames.

"I should have figured you'd be among these soulless monsters."

Kletian had always been a vile man, Val knew that, and she should have expected to see him standing beside the Lucavi. He'd stopped at nothing to acquire some of the most formidable magic in the world, and had used the Templars to that end. There was no better sorcerer in Ivalice, it was said. Val never spoke of the training she had received while in the service of the High Confessor, not even to Olan, and this man was the reason why. The things he had done, and had asked her to do, had been despicable, and that was when he was still human.

"You wound me, my dear." He replied, holding one hand over his heart in mock sincerity. "I must say I was hoping to see you here."

"Take a good look, because I'll be the last thing you see." Val shot back scathingly, narrowing her gaze at the Templar.

"Ha ha, that's the spirit!"

Valmafra wasn't prepared for the amount of control he possessed, and in an instant the flames she'd maintained between them were stolen from her. Stepping back in surprise as Kletian brought the wall of fire together between them to form a mass of roiling, burning destruction, Val felt the breath catch in her throat. The man had stripped her imposed will over the spell, and taken it as his own.

With a single word of power, Kletian sent the flames at her, forming a spiral that flew through the air, searing the grass beneath their feet. Val acted on instinct, falling back into the training she'd received from the power hungry sorcerer, and dropped to one knee. Both palms fell onto the earth, and Valmafra infused the ground with her own focused will, gripping it with her mind as any man would grasp a sword.

The woman flung both of her arms up, bringing the earth as well, and formed a wall of soil and rock between the horizontal column of flame and her. As the fire slammed into the wall, flames creeping over the top and sides, Val rose to her feet, shoving her hands forward.

Her shield turned into something of a battering ram as it was sent away, travelling toward Kletian almost as quickly as the flames that had been launched at her. Valmafra spoke quickly, focusing her concentration on the sky above them, as the wave of earth reached Kletian. The sorcerer blasted the soil away easily, his grinning face appearing once more, as Val brought an icy rain down upon him.

The shards of ice, each one only a little bigger than a raindrop, fell down onto the man. Kletian reacted instantly, forming a bubble of arcane force above him, but not before one managed to slice open his left cheek. The man was no longer smiling as he stared across the short distance between them, a murderous look slipping over his features.

The few demons that remained near the sorcerer were torn apart by the magical hail, and both the Lucavi and humans near the magical duel quickly gave Val and Kletian some room. In the face of the raw elements, both sides knew it would be folly to venture too close.

Dispelling the rest of her spell, Kletian snapped one hand toward Val, launching another of the frozen lances that impaled Rafa only moments before. Val stood her ground as the spear of ice came at her, raising one hand in response. With a simple counter-spell the woman reduced the attack to a liquid state, the lance transforming into water and falling harmlessly to the earth.

She and Kletian moved as one, stepping toward each other and flinging spells with madcap abandon. Val summoned spikes from the earth to try and impale the man, and he countered by rising into the air and sending a bolt of lightning down at her. Displacing the energy with a small shield, Valmafra strode toward Kletian, a blade of wind tearing through the air toward him.

The two sorcerers called upon every ounce of formidable magic they knew, laying waste to the ground beneath them, as they continued to close the distance between them. Each step made the duel more intense, as there was less time to anticipate and counter the next spell, and one slip would mean Valmafra's end.

Strangely she felt no fear. She'd always been frightened of Kletian's raw power, and the skill he wielded it with, but now she felt only an odd sense of calm. He may have been a monster long before giving himself to the Lucavi, but the man had trained her rigorously, and Val fell back upon that training even as she sought to destroy him.

Deflecting an orb of fire as it leapt at her, Val closed the distance between them, summoning raw arcane might from her palms. Kletian met her in kind, forming a barrier that collided with hers, soil and stone flying away from them as their magic met with a harsh sound. They stood almost face to face, barely visible energy struggling as the two sorcerers sought to get inside the guard of the other.

Val snarled, redoubling her effort enough to make the sorcerer take a step back. The man growled in response, pushing forward harder than before, and with a shock Valmafra realized he hadn't fully tapped into his own power. Kletian took one hand away from the barrier he'd formed, and thrust it toward her midsection.

The spells exploded with a deafening crack, and Val was launched backward harshly, sliding across the bare earth. Panting, the woman sat up to see Kletian's dark smile once again touching his lips. She'd thrown everything she'd had at him, to the point that she had little energy left to continue, and he seemed as though he'd just begun.

"My allegiance to the Lucavi comes with its benefits, pet. Unlimited reserves of magical power are one of them, I'm afraid." Kletian said casually, as Val quickly rose to her feet.

The man snapped his wrist slightly up, and vines sprung forth from the dirt at Valmafra's feet. Wrapping tightly around her legs, the tendrils locked her in place, as Kletian strode confidently toward her. Val bent at the waist, struggling in vain to free herself, as the man laughed darkly.

"I must say I am impressed. You took all my lessons to heart, and you used them in ways I hadn't thought of. It's a pity, however, as it seems you didn't learn enough."

Still chuckling, Kletian began to form an orb of darkness in his palm. The spell tugged at Val's ripped clothes, its false gravity sucking in anything close to make it stronger. It would consume her in an instant, of that she was certain, and she'd never seen the spell created with such potency. Kletian truly did have unlimited reserves. Val had her own strengths, however.

The woman began to turn at the waist, one hand slipping into her clothes, as Kletian lobbed the sphere toward her. Completing a quick incantation, Val felt the breath halt in her lungs, and her legs leave the earth. It was only a split second of travel, enough time to complete her spin in transit.

With a pop of displacing air and energy, Valmafra appeared behind Kletian, yanking the dagger free from its sheath. She stepped into the man, even as the after-image of her teleportation faded, and plunged the dirk deep into his back. Kletian stumbled, breath leaving him in a rush, and Val moved her face close to his ear.

"Not everything I learned came from you." She said harshly, twisting the blade into his black heart. "I'm an assassin, remember?"

With a dull thud, Kletian Drowa's face struck the earth. Exhausted, Val stumbled, before a gentle arm snaked around her waist. She fell against Olan, as the man slowly guided her back toward the Hokuten, who looked on in awe.

"You're as beautiful as you are scary." The man said quietly, gently kissing her cheek, and Val would have hit him if she wasn't so weak.

* * *

Wiegraf landed hard, rolling to displace the impact, and rose quickly to his feet. It took him but a moment to get his bearings before he broke into a sprint, rushing toward the besieged clerics that had followed the Army of Ivalice. He'd never seen demons such as these, but he felt no fear as he reached the skirmish. Once upon a time he'd been a White Knight of the Northern Sky, and he possessed the fortitude of such a station.

Only a handful of already wounded knights defended the healers that were under attack, and Wiegraf could see it would only be a moment before they were all slain. As he dove into the fray one of the healers was shielding a fallen man with her body, and Wiegraf sidled immediately in front of them.

The two creatures that came at him would have torn both the soldier and the woman apart, and Wiegraf engaged them without hesitation. They were larger than most of the Lucavi that made up the bulk of the horde, thick muscle bulging from their arms and shoulders, though they were terribly slow creatures.

With a harsh slash Wiegraf cleaved the arm from the first, ducking below a lumbering swing to drive his sword deep into the stomach of the second. Black blood poured from the wound as it screamed at him, clawed fingers slashing toward his face. The man ducked nimbly beneath the demons arm, snatching up the sword of a fallen Nanten, and bringing it to join his own in the creatures gut.

Yanking both blades free, he quickly turned, finishing off the second beast with a double stroke across it's throat, before stepping back, both weapons raised. The handful of demons that had joined them in the surprise attack gazed at Wiegraf appraisingly. There was intelligence behind their brutish black eyes, as the bull demons huffed in a frustration. They looked as though they wished to charge the man, but something seemed to be holding them back.

"Are you okay?" Wiegraf asked, glancing sideways at the woman who had dove atop the soldier.

"Yes, but he's hurt badly." She replied, and Wiegraf instantly recognized the women's well spoken voice.

"Ovelia?" He asked roughly, shocked gaze falling onto the Queen's face.

She blushed, several drops of blood marring her regal features, and Wiegraf found he was speechless. He had no idea what Ovelia was doing on the battlefield, but he doubted Delita had agreed to let her come along. Blood soaked the front of the cleric's robes the girl had donned, and it didn't take but a moment for Wiegraf to understand.

"It was stupid of you to come." He said bluntly, gripping the two swords he held even tighter.

"That it was."

The voice that drifted over them was rough and guttural, and yet somehow familiar to Wiegraf. His gaze snapped back to the demons that had been pacing nearby, to see them bowing as their master approached. He had the slight appearance of a ram, thick fur forming a mane below curved horns. His skin was a deep blue in color, covering his body, and the four arms that remained crossed in front of his barrel chest. The Lucavi general was easily two heads taller than Wiegraf, and thickly muscled.

"Royal flesh is so… delectable." The demon said, his footfalls shaking the earth. "Wouldn't you agree, Wiegraf?"

"Who are you?" The man replied, narrowing his eyes at the beast.

"Look into your heart. You know the answer to that already."

Wiegraf frowned, staring at the demon before him, and it didn't take him long to recall the Lucavi's name. He couldn't say how he knew it, but it was engrained on his brain like any other memory, and he knew precisely what the creature was.

"Velius." He said quietly, taking a shallow breath.

"Yes." The demon replied, his voice thick. "You remember because you and I spoke once, albeit briefly."

"What of it?" Wiegraf snapped back.

"My offer still stands." Velius explained, opening his arms. "Join us, and we shall reward you."

"Reward me?" The man replied with a sharp laugh. "With what? A damned soul?"

"You've forgotten who you are. Look at you, Wiegraf. You're standing beside the very men who stripped you of everything. They took your men, your honor, and even stole the life of your sister. Now you serve them like a dog, when we can make you a _god_."

Wiegraf hesitated, his gaze sliding back to the Queen, who knelt behind him, her face pleading. He'd vowed to make the nobility answer for what they had done, at any cost, and he'd never intended to go back on that. He would still force them to hear his demands, no matter what, when this was all over. Had he forgotten all of that upon allying himself with Ramza, the man who had killed his sister?

"It was the nobles that destroyed all that you hold dear. With us you'll have the power to bring them to justice. You'll have everything you need to bring them to your knees. You'll even have Miluda back."

"I know too well what has become of my sister."

With a snap Wiegraf's head rotated back to the demon, his eyes narrowing. It was a lie, all of it. They offered tainted dreams and a dark future. He'd seen what became of those who gave themselves to the Lucavi, and he was loath to join their ranks.

"Your offer isn't good enough." Wiegraf said coldly, pointing one sword at the demon's chest. "I'll make the nobility answer to me without the dark power you offer."

"You're nothing!" Velius shouted, four fists clenching in fury. "I'll show you the power you refuse!"

Wiegraf leapt to the side as the Lucavi began its charge, guiding it away from Ovelia, and was glad to see he'd enraged the beast enough for it to forget about the girl. Now, however, he had to deal with its wrath. Bending at the knees, the knight waited until the demon was practically on top of him before diving clear. He rolled quickly to his feet, clearing some distance between them.

"You're mighty slow for such a powerful demon." Wiegraf taunted, as Velius turned to him.

He needed to keep the creature focused on him, as Ovelia slowly dragged the barely conscious soldier away from the battle. If he could buy the Queen enough time to get free, his death wouldn't be in vain. As Velius charged him again, Wiegraf raised his sword, calling on his sword arts.

A blade wrapped in lightning burst from the earth below the Lucavi, striking the demon hard enough to halt its charge. Velius shook his head frantically, before muttering quietly, one fist rising into the air. Wiegraf hadn't expected the brutish monster would know magic, and the spell blasted through him. The man doubled over in pain, a sickness welling up in his gut, as he fought back the effects of the sorcery.

He rose up to be met by a pair of fists, as Velius struck him with both right arms, one in the chest and one in the stomach. Wiegraf was lifted bodily into the air from the impact, landing roughly on his back, the wind stolen from him. Coughing, he quickly stumbled back to his feet, raising both swords as the demon stalked toward him.

"You should have taken my offer." Velius growled, and Wiegraf spat on the ground in response.

The Lucavi was actually rather quick, despite his weight and size, and Wiegraf was forced to anticipate the creature's movements just to avoid them. Clearing another meaty fist by a hair's breadth, the man slashed out, managing a shallow cut on the demon's flank. Velius pressed on, forcing him to retreat or be pummeled. Wiegraf's breath came quickly as he struggled to keep the abomination off of him, using both swords in his grasp to slash at the beast whenever he could.

Velius seemed to have an infinite supply of stamina, and never faltered as it charged at him over and over. Wiegraf was quickly tiring, each swing of the sword, taking more of his strength as he fought to keep the Lucavi at bay. He could waste no concentration to see that the Queen had escaped safely, and could only hope she had fallen back to the soldiers nearby.

Dodging a kick to the midsection, Wiegraf scored a deep cut, burying part of the borrowed blade into Velius' side. He almost laughed aloud, until the demon backhanded him away with little effort, Wiegraf's grip on the sword faltering. He landed hard, quickly scrambling to his feet as the Lucavi wrenched the sword free from his torso. Wiegraf rose as that blade came down, and he leapt to the side, knowing he didn't have time to get free.

The pain in his arm was overwhelming, a searing blaze that traveled all the way across his chest. Landing on the soft grass once more, the man found he couldn't breathe; the agony from fingertip to shoulder almost forcing him into unconsciousness. Wiegraf absently reached over with his uninjured arm to feel for the wound, and was somewhat confused when his hand closed on air.

Looking down, he couldn't immediately understand why his hand was so close to his face. It took a moment to realize that his arm was gone, cleaved away just below the shoulder. It had to be an illusion, because he was certain he could still feel that injured arm, still move it.

"Wiegraf!" Ovelia called, her voice muffled through his muddled head.

Distantly Wiegraf could hear Velius laughing, as the demon turned and lumbered away from him. Rolling toward the sound of the Queen's voice, Wiegraf tasted blood, and his vision blurred as he saw the woman calling to him. Shaking his head, the man groped for his sword, the pain in his missing arm sharp and constant.

"Stupid girl." He muttered, rising to his knees.

Velius was closing on the woman, who began to panic and back away. It was noble of her to be concerned of him, but incredibly dim witted. He'd fought this monster to let her escape, not for her to charge back to him. Still, and though Wiegraf was certain it was the shock of injuries that addled his brain so, he was somewhat touched.

"Velius!" The man roared, spitting blood as he rose to his feet. "Is that all you got? I'm glad I didn't join you, if that's all you have to offer."

The Lucavi rounded on him slowly, a low growl escaping its throat. That certainly got his attention. Ignoring the Queen, Velius strode purposefully toward Wiegraf, murder in his dark crimson eyes. Wiegraf smiled grimly, tightening the grip on his sword. If he was going to die, he was going to do his best to take this monster with him.

"Come on, then!" He cried out. "I didn't even need that arm anyway!"

Snarling, Velius charged him, and Wiegraf stood his ground. The demon snatched him up with all four arms, pain exploding from Wiegraf's left arm, or lack thereof. The knight rocked his body forward, slamming his forehead into the beast's face hard enough to send his vision swimming, while wrenching his sword arm free.

A hard thrust buried the sword deep into Velius' shoulder, not quite where he'd aimed it, and the demon howled in rage and pain. One meaty fist met with the right side of Wiegraf's face, blacking his vision and clouding his mind. He felt the wind on his face as he was thrown, but barely noticed the impact as his body met the earth.

Delita burst through the chaos that was the rear of the army, just as Wiegraf was cast aside by a massive Lucavi. The regent winced as the man struck the ground, rushing toward the woman that stood alone in the face of another creature. The Minotaur raised an axe, lunging toward the girl, as Delita snatched his lance from its housing.

He slammed the polearm into the beast's chest, almost unseating him, and finished the demon by dragging his sword roughly across its throat. Even as the creature fell to the earth, its fellows charging toward him, Delita's mind processed the face of the woman he'd just saved.

"Ovelia?" He said, twisting in his seat to stare down at her, before screaming to the men that arrived with him. "Form a line, protect the Queen!"

As the knights attacked the remaining bull demons, Delita practically dove off of his chocobo, snaring Ovelia by the shoulders and shaking her. The girl's face was bloodstained and beautiful, though it wasn't fear that dominated her features.

"What are you doing here?" Delita cried, gripping her tightly.

A slew of emotions ran though him. Anger, confusion, fear, and most prominently concern. His rational mind was thinking of the Queen's role in his own bid for the throne, but he was hardly using that at the moment. Instead, he could only picture Ovelia lying bloody on the ground, the demon's axe buried in her neck. Without thinking Delita pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Are you out of your mind?" He asked quickly, leaning back to look into her face. "You were almost killed!"

"Then I would have died doing all I could, alongside everyone else who has fallen today."

Delita regarded her steel gaze for a moment, and noticed something he hadn't seen before. This was not the passive, obedient Ovelia he had come to know. Something was different about her, defiant and passionate. This was the Ovelia he had seen long before, only briefly, before she had been seated on the throne and forced to follow his plans.

Shrugging out of his grasp, Ovelia moved toward the vanguard that had repelled the demons. Delita followed on her heels, watching as the demon that had pummeled Wiegraf vanished in an burst of dark energy, laughing as he disappeared. The Queen shouldered her way through the knights, sprinting toward the fallen man that had been defending her.

Kneeling next to Wiegraf, she placed on hand on his chest, and motioned for some of the men to come. Delita dropped to a crouch next to her, gazing impassively at the woman, perplexed. Where did this confidence come from, and what had he done to steal it from her?

Delita had forgotten who Ovelia really was, and how much her crown had weighed on her. Every man that died in her name burdened her in a way that it never had Delita, and that compassion is what he'd lacked for so long. That was what was needed for Ivalice, in the end. With some embarrassment Delita realized he had been breaking his promise. He'd sworn to her he'd build a kingdom they could rule in peace, when in truth he'd been constructing an empire for himself. Once he finally saw this, it was impossible to turn away from.

"He's alive," Ovelia said in a whisper, gasping. "But barely."

As Delita watched the woman went to work, closing her eyes and trying to repair the damage done to Wiegraf's body as best she could. The regent simply stared at her, seeing Ovelia in a new light, the light he should have always gazed at her with. Even covered in blood, her expression hard as she concentrated on healing the fallen knight, she was beautiful. Why hadn't he seen that?

"You," Ovelia said, glancing up at one of the knights. "Get him to the other clerics. See he is given top priority. This man saved my life, and I'll be damned if I let him die for it."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Her tone held the authority of her station, and it she voiced her orders well. The rest of Delita's vanguard remained, waiting patiently for orders as well. With a nod Delita dismissed them, and as they left Ovelia sagged back against him, forcing the man to a seat. She was clearly exhausted, and had only remained upright to keep the men from worrying.

"You can scream at me when we've returned to Lesalia." She said quietly, resting her head against his chest.

"I wouldn't dream of it." Delita replied, taking the woman in his arms.

A distant sound drew both of their eyes, as the leaders of Ivalice turned toward Bethla Garrison. As they watched, their collective breath held, the fort began to break free from the land around it. It was both beautiful and terrifying, and a sense of dread washed over Delita as the garrison rose into the sky, reminding him that the battle was far from over.

* * *

**Author's Note:** This was definitely one of the most fun chapters to write. Two serious duels, some of the Delita/Ovelia I wanted to get in, Gafgarion looking like a boss, and another casualty out of the way. Now I didn't want to have a death for shock value, and that's not what I intended Rafa to be at all. Sudden deaths happen, especially when backstabbed (Or backspelled, if you will), and I wanted to keep that aspect intact, while giving her death some meaning. Mostly to have a solid mage fight, since Kletian gets no love or development in canon. The question is: Did Malak buy the farm as well, and if not, what will he do now?

I absolutely_ loved_ Wiegraf and Velius. I think it came out better than I planned, and shows that soloing a Lucavi isn't a walk in the park. I feel I did Wiegraf's badass nature justice with it, and Redemption didn't equal Death this time around. Just dismemberment. On the topic of Wiegraf, I had something I wanted to mention. I had originally planned, when I started the story, for Izlude to go back to the Templars during the first or second arc, and become paired with Wiegraf as in canon. I can't recall what changed that exactly, but sometimes I wish I could have still gone with it. It could have been really interesting to see.

Not much else to say, but I went over this chapter fast before I got off work, so bear with me if there are any grammar errors I missed. I'll be re-reading it this evening, and will fix anything I missed then, as well as include a couple of comments I don't have time to write now.

**9-06-2011 Edit:** Okay, read back over the chapter and made a few small touches on it. Namely, I reworded the scene of Velius departing. I realized I accidentally made it look like he _died_, when in fact he just retreated. Made a few grammar corrections as well.

The other thing I wanted to mention, since it was brought up and I didn't have the time last night to go into it, was my reason for choosing to off Rafa. Rafa was, and still is, a character I enjoy using when playing through FFT. My first playthrough she was one of my favorites, and I still remember that. That being said, it came down to which death would actually have an effect on both the readers and the characters. Malak's a great guy and all, but honestly I don't feel many people like him too much. He was a bit of a jerk in canon, and refused to listen to the sister he so adored. That always grated on me, and I felt that if he died people would just shrug and not care. I wanted the death of the one of the Galthana's to actually _mean_ something, not simply add to a list of the casualties of war. In my opinion, Rafa's death would do much more in that regard than Malak's. I also figured throwing Malak under a bus would show too much that I, personally, dislike his character a bit. The Dead Little Sister aspect is also something that, in canon, was made note of, and I kinda felt I'd follow the trend a bit. Now, I think I can safely say she'll be the last woman to fall. Maybe. We'll see.

I'm working on Chapter 36 now, and if it comes out how I'd like, it's probably going to be rather long, and you'll all definitely be seeing the Valefor in action.


	36. Mighty Wings

**Chapter Thirty-Six: Mighty Wings**

* * *

"Move!" Ramza barked sharply, poised at the bow of the Valefor.

Mustadio had never heard such venom in the man's voice, and it scared him somewhat. There was a ferocity to the order that urged him on, pushing the limits of the airship as it shot through the sky. Izlude's fall, as well as the Valefor's ascension, seemed to play out in slow motion. The tower was so far that the incredible distance they crossed felt sluggish, as stones as big as the humans aboard the ship rained down from the heavens.

"Look out!" Celia called, as one of the chunks of the tower, thankfully smaller than most, plummeted toward the Valefor.

With a sweep of his arm Ramza yanked his heavy cloak free, casting it into the wind to reveal the massive gauntlet that shielded his left arm. Mustadio wasn't confident in the arm he'd built based on Rattletraps frame, but Ramza seemed to have more trust in him. As Mustadio watched, Ramza stood his ground against the falling piece of mortar, crouching low to brace himself.

Using that arm as any knight would a shield, Ramza slammed his forearm into the stone, deflecting it to the side and clear of the Valefor. Mustadio breathed a sigh of relief as they climbed, hoping that the gauntlet had protected the Dark Knight's arm.

Every ounce of concentration was then devoted to avoiding the falling tower, as it collapsed all around them like some hellish hailstorm of black stone. Ramza didn't flinch from his position on the bow as they neared the falling knight, his shoulders and legs tensed for motion.

Time seemed to halt as the Valefor reached the same height as Izlude, a great lateral distance still separating the two. Without a word Ramza took one step forward, planting his foot and launching himself from the airship. As the last of the collapsed tower fell past him, Mustadio spun the wheel to turn the Valefor, sprinting to the side of the craft to see if the two men had survived.

Clinging to the side of the Garrison's wall, his gauntlet gripping the lip of the stone rampart, Ramza hung precariously. Directly below him, Izlude was holding just as tightly to the man's other hand, using the wall to steady himself. The machinist watched, Celia and Lede at his side, as Ramza slowly hefted his friend up with one arm.

Relief swept over Mustadio as Izlude snagged the top of the wall, but it was short lived. No sooner had the man safely grabbed hold of the stone then Ramza fell away, his steel sleeve tearing away a piece of the rampart. The Beoulve landed roughly on the the small patch of stone and soil that had risen into the air with the fort, mere inches from a straight drop to the earth below. Before Mustadio could even gasp, his gaze locked onto the grounded man, he was pitched sideways.

The impact was terrible, tossing Mustadio to the floor and nearly knocking Lede over the side, as the Valefor rocked to one side. Looking up, Mustadio saw the Lucavi ship that rammed them as it passed over, the glancing blow to the Valefor a taste of things to come. As the airship righted itself, Mustadio dashed back to the helm. There was no time to worry about Ramza now, with half a dozen enemy ships bearing down on the crew of the Valefor.

Turning the helm of the ship, Mustadio brought it into a dive, falling below the two other Lucavi craft that had been closing in on them. The machinist narrowly avoided a third as they rocketed toward the earth, passing so close that the hull of the two ships ground against each other for a moment. Glancing back, he quickly took stock of the enemy as they dove after him.

They were similar in make to the Valefor, though Mustadio's ship was smaller than all of them. He had the advantage in speed in maneuverability, but that would do him little good if he couldn't actually destroy the other vessels. From what he could tell the Lucavi craft weren't outfitted with weapons, most likely they had once been merchant vessels of some kind, where Mustadio suspected his had once been used for smuggling.

Slowing the airship down, Mustadio allowed the two pursuing ships directly behind him to creep closer. He knew what they would do, for it was the only option they had to take him out of the sky. Smiling mischievously, the machinist turned to the twins.

"Tell the men below to prepare for combat."

Celia nodded, jogging to the stairs to the deck below to relay his order, while Lede remained at his side. The second assassin stared back at the Lucavi craft, absently playing with a few strands of blonde hair.

"Do you think that will work?" She asked casually, raising one eyebrow.

"There's only one way to find out."

As the enemy airships gained on him, they separated, moving into position on either side of the Valefor. As expected they sought to box him in, trapping him between them and sending their crew over to slaughter every man, woman, and steel golem onboard. Mustadio, his gaze darting between them, let them cruise right up beside him.

"Ready!" He called, his order instantly repeated by Celia, as the Lucavi ships completely boxed him in on both sides. "Fire!"

From below the main deck of the airship, inside the first series of compartments once used for storage, the men Mustadio had brought along let loose their barrage. It had been grueling work to construct the series of cannon mounts inside of the Valefor's guts, and even more difficult had been refitting the handful of weapons that had been aging in her depths. The results, however, made his struggle worth it.

A dozen explosions on each side of the Valefor went off in tandem, the thunderous sound like that of an angry God. Heavy iron shot, similar to what was fired from Mustadio's pistol, tore through the two Lucavi ships like stone through parchment. At such a close range, every one found their mark, and aim was a non factor. The Valefor trembled from the cannon barrage, as the enemy airships immediately fell away.

Watching with a sense of elation, Mustadio grinned at Lede, relishing in the sight of the Lucavi craft turning away and beginning to descend to the earth. The Valefor's cannons had made short work of the rotting ships, and served as a warning to the rest of the demons that pursued them.

"That went well." Celia noted casually, as Mustadio brought the Valefor around.

The remaining Lucavi ships were unperturbed by the fall of two of their fleet, and continued on, one closing fast on the Valefor. Without hesitation Mustadio urged his ship forward, racing toward the approaching vessel head on. The cannons would require time to reload, so he'd have to keep the enemy craft occupied until then. With a strange new confidence, he took to the challenge vigorously.

Hurtling through the sky toward the other ship, Mustadio tightened his grip on the helm, predicting the enemy's path as best he could. The Lucavi would throw away the lives of a dozen ships to bring the Valefor down, and it made them ludicrously easy to anticipate.

Mustadio played right into it, appearing dead set on ramming the other ship head on until the last moment. He waited, arms tense, until he could see the corrupted men staring across the sky at him, before he forced the Valefor down. The airship fell quickly, passing below the more sluggish Lucavi craft, and coming out behind it. Mustadio immediately brought the Valefor into a tight turn. The entire ship shuddering as it came about, rising to end up directly behind the other airship.

"Look at them," He said, laughing at the enemy crew as they scrambled about. "They still don't even know where we are."

"By your leave, _Captain_." Lede replied with a small smirk, nodding discreetly at the ship as the Valefor approached it from the rear.

"It's all yours."

The twins left his side in unison, quickly crossing the deck of the Valefor until they reached Rattletrap, who hadn't moved since raising the Peacemaker onto the main deck. The steel golem's deep crimson gaze turned to the women as they approached, regarding them with mild interesting.

"Come on big guy." Celia said lightly, clambering up onto the golem's back.

"It's time to have some fun." Lede finished, taking up a position mirroring her sister.

Rattletrap looked torn, if that was even possible, his massive head swiveling toward Mustadio. It took the machinist a second to realize that the construct was asking for permission. Sometimes he forgot that he had complete control over the machine.

"Well, go on then." He called dismissively, waving Rattletrap on.

**"Acknowledged."**

In three massive strides, the golem reached the bow of the Valefor, thick steel legs launching him forward with a squeal of metal. With such mass it was unbelievable that Rattletrap's feet could leave the ground, let alone cross the distance between the Valefor and the ship in front of it. Yet right before Mustadio's eyes, with Celia and Lede perched on his back, the golem flew through the air as though it weighed nothing at all.

Mustadio was close enough to see the carnage that followed, and could hardly look away as the golem and the assassins brought the fight to the Lucavi airship. Rattletrap landed with a splintering crunch on the deck of the ship, and Celia and Lede flipped lightly away from him. Now, as always, it was enthralling to watch the women fight.

They moved with fluid precision, almost dancing across the deck of the craft as they cut through the men that had given themselves to darkness. They carved through the enemy like a surgeon's blade, while Rattletrap hit them like a hammer. The golem followed the two women as they flipped and tore across the deck, mercilessly pummeling any of the lost men that were too dumb to stay down.

The fight was over in mere moments, the few corrupted soldiers that clung to some semblance of life crumpled on the deck. Quickly the assassins returned to the aft end of the ship, giving Rattletrap a quick order before hopping onto his massive back. The golem's chest plate slid slowly open to reveal the weapon housed within, and with a resounding whine Rattletrap blasted a hole through the enemy ship, before leaping back to the Valefor.

"There, are you sated?" Mustadio asked lightly, as the assassins joined him once more.

He wasn't prepared for what came next, as Lede took a handful of his shirt in her fist. Mustadio was pulled roughly forward, as a pair of soft lips met his, banishing all thoughts of the enemy ships behind them. The woman held her mouth to his for a long moment, before releasing him. Mustadio didn't have a moment to breathe before Celia snagged him by the arm, pressing her lips against his with the same vigor, unwilling to be outdone by her sister.

"Now we are." The woman said upon releasing him, biting down on her lower lip.

Mustadio stood dumbfounded for a long moment, and as the Valefor cruised ahead, the enemy craft directly behind him, he suddenly forgot how to breathe. Shaking his head to clear it, the machinist glanced sideways at the women, nodding shallowly.

"Right, um, we should get back to, you know…"

"By all means." The twins said in unison, smiling coyly at him.

Clearing his throat, Mustadio brought the Valefor around, and noted immediately that the remaining Lucavi ships had fallen back some. It seemed they finally had some misgivings about attacking directly, having seen three of their own fall so swiftly. At least that was Mustadio's theory, until the first of the winged creatures landed heavily on the deck behind him.

Spinning, he spotted the beasts as they threw themselves at the Valefor, attacking the openings in the hull where the men below reloaded the cannons. Instantly the crew was thrown into disarray, shouts of alarm drifting up, while more of the creatures descended all around Mustadio and the assassins.

Drawing his pistol, the machinist fired without hesitation, catching one of the creatures in the throat as it dove for him. Blood splashed over him as Mustadio was buffeted to the deck by one leathery wing, and he drew and fired his second pistol on instinct, killing the demon before it could sink its claws into his chest. Rolling away from the fallen beast, he quickly bounded to his feet, as Celia and Lede engaged the three headed monstrosities.

Mustadio hadn't taken two steps before another of them struck him from behind, throwing the machinist to the planking as he was drawing the three barreled pistol from his belt, the weapon clattering across the deck. Scrambling backward as the demon advanced on him, claws scraping as it hopped into the air, his hand sought the dropped pistol, knowing he wouldn't reach it in time.

He wasn't certain what happened next, as a plume of fire engulfed the demon, setting it ablaze as it took the sky shrieking. Gasping, the machinist leapt to his feet, unable to believe what he was seeing. Dozens of dragons swarmed over the other side of the Valefor, several of them with a knight on their back. It took Mustadio a moment to recognize the crest of the Gryphon, the knight order of Lionel province.

In that same instant a pair of the drakes landed on the deck next to him, while their kin forced the winged demons to retreat. Beowulf and Reis dismounted smoothly, the woman pausing to gently rub the bottom of her dragon's neck affectionately. Mustadio stared, in awe, as the two of them strode quickly to his side.

"Looks like we arrived just in time," Beowulf noted, his gaze travelling skyward before he glanced back at Reis. "It seems _she_ beat us here, however."

"That red dragon, it's with _you_?" Mustadio asked, unable to contain himself.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" Reis said quietly, watching as the massive dragons still fought for dominance high above them. "I'd never imagined she would speak to me."

"I can't make sense of this." The machinist replied, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"We'll assist the Blades, and deal with those creatures." Beowulf began, climbing back onto his mount. "I assume you can handle the other airships?"

"Of course." Mustadio shot back with a wry smile. "I'm the Captain of the Valefor, after all."

* * *

The Knight Blades were hard pressed when Beowulf joined them in the sky, Aliste and the Gryphons flanking the besieged Nanten soldiers and forcing the demons that assaulted them to retreat for the moment. The dragon Beowulf was perched on huffed in anticipation, shaking its head, as Reis moved to his side. It was only a slight reprieve from the air battle, as the winged creatures that opposed the mounted knights regrouped and took stock of the new arrivals.

"We appear to be outnumbered." Aliste noted dryly, adjusting his grip on the lance in the crook of his arm.

"If memory serves, we were _always _outnumbered." Beowulf replied, glancing sideways at the man.

"I can't argue with that." His former Lieutenant agreed, turning to his knights. "Gryphons! What do you say we clip their wings?"

The Lionel knights shouted their assent, as the three headed demons rushed toward them once more. Drawing his blade, Beowulf joined them in their cry, as the dragons surged forward. Wings pumping furiously, Beowulf's mount lunged forward, trickles of smoke drifting from its nostrils as it closed on the Lucavi air power. Brandishing his sword, Beowulf leaned to the side, slashing downward as the first of the creatures passed him.

He cleaved one head from the beast with one smooth stroke, his mount letting loose a jet of flame as it spun in the air, finishing the wounded demon in the blink of an eye. All around Beowulf the battle raged, as Blades and Gryphons engaged the tiamats. Slashing out at any of the creatures that ventured too close, Beowulf fought furiously, accenting his cuts with his debilitating sword skills. On either side of him, Reis and Aliste covered his flanks, as the mounted knights tore through the winged beasts.

The creatures were powerful and vicious, but they lacked the organization and discipline that the trained men held. They attacked haphazardly, not realizing that their charges left them vulnerable to the knight to the left or right of their target. Beowulf also noticed something else about the demons as he fought; their breath, while quite destructive, was unreliable. As often as not one of the beasts would spew magical flames from its maw only to have it miss completely, leaving the creature open to attack.

In short order the knights quickly cut their way through almost half of the demons, closing their airborne ranks every time one of them was knocked from his mount, plummeting to the earth below. Beowulf winced whenever one was unseated, but he could do nothing to save them. All he could do was attack quickly and decisively, in the hopes of ending the battle before more of the men around him fell to their death.

As the creatures began to fall back, less certain of their victory, a triumphant roar sounded high above. Beowulf turned his gaze skyward to see the red dragon, who had thus far held its own against the Lucavi's beast, begin to falter. It held one foreleg close to its body, snapping in vain as the backwash of its wings drifted over the knights below. The dragon retreated from the black drake, its injuries putting fear into its heart for the first time.

Without a word, Beowulf turned his mount, racing into the air toward the two massive beasts. He distantly heard Reis calling to him as he rose, but he paid his lover little mind. If the Lucavi's creature overcame its red counterpart, every one of them was doomed. As he neared the black drake, Beowulf loosed his sword arts, watching in despair as they struck the creatures scales harmlessly. There had to be some way to turn the tide of the titanic duel the two dragons had been engaged in.

Dodging a pair of fore claws that were easily twice his size, the former Temple Knight came alongside the beast, looking for some weakness to exploit. He'd fought many beasts during the time he'd been searching for Reis, but he'd never come across something as unnatural as this. Flying above the creature, the knight looked over its ridged back, unaware of the shift in the creature's movement. The black drake rotated slightly, using the thick bones in its right wing to slam into Beowulf's mount.

The knight was knocked clear of his dragon, falling like a stone before he'd even processed what had happened. Beowulf thrust his sword out on instinct as he plummeted, aiming the tip of the blade for the giant dragons flank. With a satisfying sound of steel puncturing flesh, the sword sank into the dragon's scales, jarring Beowulf as his body came to an abrupt halt. The drake seemed to be unaware of the man that had snagged its back, continuing its assault on the injured red.

Clambering up, the black scales beneath his hands offering little purchase, Beowulf climbed fully onto the giants back. Panting, the knight began to jog along its ridged spine, toward the beasts head. If he could only distract the creature, perhaps the dragon they had awoken at Mount Germinas could turn the tide.

"Beowulf!" Reis called, reining her dragon in close to the knight. "Take my hand!"

"No, I have a plan." The man replied, seeing that the Gryphons had managed to scatter the remaining tiamats below. "Try and keep this monster busy!"

Reis hesitated for a moment before nodding once, flying toward the approaching knights to relay his message. Beowulf continued on, sprinting across the black dragon's back as wind tore through his hair. The beast was thick skinned and massive, but there was one common weakness in every monster he'd ever faced. If he could get to it, perhaps it would be enough to allow the dragon to be brought down.

* * *

Mustadio hoped he wouldn't be eating his words. No sooner had Beowulf and Reis departed than the machinist found his confidence tested, as a new airship entered the fray. The large craft had shot around the drifting Fort Bethla, tearing through the sky as though it had been fired from a cannon. As it approached, the other Lucavi ships bore down on the Valefor, forcing Mustadio into a steep dive. Pulling on the helm, the young machinist righted his ship, glancing back to see that his dive hadn't shaken the Lucavi vessel that pursued him.

It was in much better condition than the others, and though it was easily twice the size of the Valefor, it seemed capable of matching the smaller vessels maneuverability. Grinding his teeth together, Mustadio coaxed more speed out of his airship, though the enemy craft still gained on him. Bringing the Valefor into a tight turn, he quickly shot back toward the more sluggish Lucavi ships behind them, the new arrival hot on his tail.

"Let's see just how quick you are." The machinist said under his breath, as the remainder of the enemy fleet moved to intercept the Valefor.

The handful of Lucavi airships formed a line, spreading out enough that he couldn't simply dive below them as he'd planned. Weaving back and forth as he sped toward them, the young Bunanza searched for an opening he could exploit, and when he saw it he knew what he would do. The ship was small enough to pass through the gap between, but the angle was wrong. In order to make it through he'd have to do something that he knew the twins wouldn't like.

"Hang onto something!" He shouted, aware of the concerned and confused looks the two women gave him as they clung to the nearest piece of the deck that was bolted down.

Yanking on a lever next to the helm, Mustadio rocked the ship to one side, holding tight as the Valefor began to tip. He aimed the bow at the gap in the Lucavi fleet as the ship turned, flipping upside down for a split second, and time seemed to slow as the Valefor plunged between the enemy ships. The mast of the ship, pointed toward the earth in that small moment of time, barely missed the side of one of the ships, as the Valefor shot out past the fleet.

Shoving the lever back into its original position as the Valefor finished its roll, Mustadio fought down the mild unease in his gut. His body wasn't enjoying the rapid flip through the air, and as Celia and Lede found their feet once more, the look on their faces made it clear neither were they.

"If you ever do that again," Lede began, her face pale, as her sister finished the thought. "We _will_ kill you."

"I'll do it right now if you keep that attitude." Mustadio countered, and twins leered at him in response.

Twisting at the waist, the machinist glanced behind him to see the enemy ships in disarray, uncertain of how to react as the Valefor sped away. Mustadio was about to laugh at the way they slowly turned, when the ship he'd been trying to lose blew through them. There was no pretense of avoiding the other ships, as the more sturdy craft rammed through them. Metal and wood splintered away as it bulled through, destroying three Lucavi airships in the blink of an eye.

"Who the hell is flying that thing?" Mustadio asked, exasperated, as he brought the Valefor around.

There was still some distance between them, more than enough time to line the side of his ship up. Mustadio presented the starboard side to the enemy airship as it raced toward him, the perfect target. Bringing the Valefor to a complete stop, Mustadio narrowed his eyes, trying to judge the distance between them before offering the helm to Celia.

"Keep her steady." He ordered, jogging toward the bow of the ship. "We'll see how he handles some cannon fire."

There would be more than enough time to move out of the way after firing the starboard battery, assuming the Lucavi ship wasn't shredded by the barrage. The enemy ship might be tougher than the ones Mustadio had faced before, but it was by no means unbeatable. Pausing near the Peacemaker, the machinist glanced back at the twins.

"Once they've fired, get us clear." He called, before turning his gaze back to the approaching airship.

The machinist's breath caught in his throat, and he knew immediately he'd made a mistake. He'd misjudged the ship he was fighting, assuming it to have been another merchant vessel of some kind. As he watched in horror, a massive compartment fell open on the ship's bow, revealing a massive cannon that could only have been mounted on a warship. Turning back toward the helm, Mustadio opened his mouth to warn the assassins, when the enemy ship fired.

It was only a split second, long enough for the man to take a single step, before the Valefor was hit. With a deafening crash of shattering wood and warped metal, the airship was struck dead center. Splintering wood exploded around Mustadio, the impact of the massive cannonball knocking him into the air. The machinist was flung mercilessly to the deck near the bow of the airship, as the Valefor began to spin.

Struggling to his feet, ears ringing, Mustadio fought to stay upright as his ship leaned to the port side, rotating quickly as it lost control. The entire ship had been blown nearly in half, the aft section attached only by a handful of warped, twisted metal joiners. Celia and Lede clung tenaciously to the helm of the ship, as Rattletrap dug both enormous hands into the main deck to keep from falling away. Snarling in anger and desperation, Mustadio spun, diving toward the most forward section of the bow.

Mounted there, just as the one Wiegraf used on the Valefor's rear end, was a heavy ballista. Bracing himself against the weapon, Mustadio quickly notched one of the thick bolts, bringing it around toward the approaching Lucavi warship. With the spin the Valefor had taken, as it slowly began to spiral toward the earth, aiming was difficult. He only had one shot, and he had to make it count. The machinist lined up the crosshairs of the arbalest, sucking in a deep breath, and fired.

It was a short distance between the two ships, and the bolt crossed between them in an instant, slamming into the aft end of the Lucavi vessel with a dull crack. It buried itself deep into the ship's hull, a heavy length of rope tethering the Valefor to the airship that crippled her. With a jarring impact Mustadio's craft was jolted out of its spin, losing power and falling to tip the enemy ship almost onto its side.

Mustadio fell away from the bow, bouncing across the vertical surface that was now the Valefor's main deck, before his body struck the Peacemaker. He snagged the magic cannon with one hand, clinging tenaciously to it as dozens of the crew below deck, many already dead from the explosion, fell from the guts of the ship. Pulling himself up, the machinist turned his attention toward Celia and Lede, at the aft end. The two women were directly below him, braced against the railing on the rear of the Valefor.

"Can you get to Rattletrap?" Mustadio called, eyeing the golem who remained anchored to the deck of the hanging section.

The two women didn't reply, instead they set about slowly climbing the vertical deck. They moved quickly despite the lack of handholds, which was a testament to their agility, and quickly scaled the length of smooth wood toward the steel giant. Rattletrap stared up at Mustadio silently, awaiting instructions as he remained fist deep in the ship.

A sense of relief washed over Mustadio as the two women clambered onto Rattletraps back, clinging to a gap in the metal plate that shielded his back. Adjusting his position, the machinist looked for the sturdiest piece of rigging still attached to the forward section of the Valefor, and indicated the demolished mast as he inched closer to the shredded midsection.

"Rattletrap." He called, his voice barely rising above the groan of strained metal. "Grab onto this."

The golem yanked one hand free from the deck, his weight shifting, and aimed his arm up at Mustadio. With a hiss and a grinding sound, the mechanical man fired his hand up, the metal cable trailing behind the appendage as it shot into the air. At the same moment, with a tremendous crunch, the last of the steel that held the rear of the Valefor to Mustadio's section shattered, and the aft half fell away.

Rattletraps hand continued upward, travelling quickly toward the section of mast that was still attached, as Mustadio leaned forward. It was so close, hardly an arm's length from the wood, when the golem's appendage reached the end of the steel cable that anchored it to his arm. Without a sound, Celia, Lede, and Rattletrap fell away, plummeting toward the earth along with the back half of the Valefor.

Mustadio stared down in shock as they disappeared from view, unable to process what had happened. They'd been right there, and he was sure they would make it, and suddenly they were gone. He waited, expecting to see Rattletraps massive fist emerge from beneath the forward half of the airship, where he had snagged onto some stray part of the deck. It took several seconds for Mustadio to realize that it wasn't going to happen.

A raw, cold fury rose up from inside of the young man, as he turned to gaze up at the airship he'd tethered to. It drifted directly above him, the weight of the destroyed Valefor forcing it to lean heavily to the port side. It couldn't easily fly with that much weight hanging from it, and Mustadio knew what he had to do.

"If I'm going down," Mustadio said quietly, as he scrambled into the seat of the Peacemaker. "Then you're coming with me."

The Lucavi vessel was directly above the bow, and there was no way he could aim the barrel of the magical cannon directly at it. Mustadio had a different target in mind, however. Cranking the barrel of the Peacemaker up, he pointed the weapon skyward, adjusting it slightly as he stared down its length. Above him, the Lucavi's black dragon snapped and clawed at the mounted knights that harassed it, leaving it a relatively easy target.

"Let's see how well you both do on the ground." The machinist said grimly, as he pulled the trigger of the Peacemaker.

* * *

Gripping the ridge along the black drake's elongated neck as he moved, Beowulf made his way to the beast's head. It was slow going, as the massive creature snapped back and forth at the Knight Blades and Gryphons, accenting each missed bite with a plume of corrosive breath. So distracted was the creature, it didn't seem to notice Beowulf as he reached the crest of its skull. Clinging to it, the knight waved back the nearest Gryphon, who passed the order along.

As the airborne soldiers backed off, the black dragon turned its attention toward the red, drifting slowly toward it. Beowulf waited, hanging on tightly, as the Lucavi beast roared, the sound drowning out the entire world. The drake beat its wings once in preparation of a forward charge, and Beowulf struck then, knowing its attention would be completely on the other dragon.

Leaping ahead, the knight slid down the front of the dragon's skull, snagging the ridge above its left eye with one hand, and flipping down into its vision. The creatures eye, almost as large as Beowulf and rather human in its appearance, grew wide as it realized what was happening. It was at that moment that the knight thrust his sword forward, buying the length of steel into the soft tissue.

The dragon roared in pain, jerking its head to the side in the same instance. Beowulf was flung away from the beast, flying through the open air as the red dragon slammed into it. His gaze remained locked on the two creatures as they collided, wind whipping past him as he plummeted. In that same instance a wave of heat passed him, followed by a thunderous explosion of sound. A ball of magical fire, raw power the likes of which Beowulf had never seen, slammed into belly of the black dragon.

For a moment, the entire world was engulfed in flames. The fireball exploded on impact, flying out in every direction as the black dragon screamed. Beowulf fell like a stone, sword still tightly gripped, as he watched the carnage. Both dragons faltered, falling away from each other and toward the earth, as Beowulf heard the familiar sound of beating wings.

"Got you!" Aliste shouted, snagging the back of Beowulf's tunic with one hand.

The knight tried to haul Beowulf up, but the weight proved too much for his mount, which began to quickly spiral toward the ground. Wings beating furiously to slow its descent, the dragon rocked back and forth in an attempt to balance itself, as the ground quickly rose toward Beowulf and Aliste. The former Temple Knight shot his gaze upward, watching as the black dragon fell as well. Then his body struck the earth, as Aliste's mount crashed into the grass, sending Beowulf sprawling and filling his vision with darkness.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So concludes the air battle, more or less. It's not the end of Mustadio and Beowulf's role, but the rest will be on the ground. It was a slightly difficult chapter, and I put the final touches on it this evening. I feel it came out well enough, considering I didn't want to spend too long on the airship fight. I got a barrel roll in, and covered the plot aspects I needed to, while giving Mustadio a chance to cause some havoc. All in all, I think it went well. It was difficult to write this out without having the Valefor flipping and rolling through the air, as I had to keep in mind that the airships, including Mustadio's, wouldn't be as advanced or in as good repair as the ones in, say, FF12.

A non chapter related note: I changed things around a little regarding when Part 2 ends and Part 3 begins, shifting the beginning of The Rising Abyss to Chapter 30, when Altima is revived and Ivalice is plunged into darkness. This was suggested by Caellach Tiger Eye, and I couldn't agree more that it was a good change. When writing a story chapter by chapter, you can't always foresee what exactly is going to happen a little ahead of you, unless it's totally planned out. I didn't expect to have Altima's revival become a bigger scene than Shemhazai's, but as it turned out that way, it seems to be a much better stopping point for Part 2.

We're heading toward the climax now, and I honestly didn't expect the Final Battle to consist of so many chapters. In the end I decided to divide them up more than originally planned, to flesh out the different aspects and overlaps more. We've still got a couple baddies to off, and what's that I'm mentioning about a... Five Bad Band? Oh dear.

**Caellach:** Got your messages, and as I said above, I agree completely. I'd been thinking about that a little after completing the Murond arc, but wasn't sure exactly how to play it out. Swapped the Part to Chapter 30, and altered the opening line to go with it. Thanks a lot for the input. I too read over the Three Act Trope listing, and noticed the same things you did. Might as well run with it. As for your other note via PM: Rafa isn't going to be the last person to die, as far as I have it planned, but that's not set in stone for me. The story is, even this far along, still somewhat fluid. As it stands I'm on the fence about killing off one person in particular, but I don't know how exactly I'd play it out, with the ending already etched in my brain. Another thing I wanted to talk about was the difference in the level of trust when it comes to Delita and Wiegraf. I agree completely that Delita and Agrias did more in large terms to bring about Ajora's revival, but their actions were big picture based. Wiegraf, on the other hand, made his errors on a much more personal level. His murder of Izlude, which brought Mel down, and kidnapping of Alma, would stick out much more to Ramza and those close to the women, so despite their own logic about the thing, emotion steps in. Does that make sense? Either way, he's getting his chance to set things right as well. Now I have to stop and think for a second. Celia and Lede are twins, so there's no little sister to kill off there... Did Agrias have an older sibling? I'm kidding, I promise.

**Vegeta the 3rd:** I think I mentioned I wouldn't Wash anyone, and I tried my best to hold to that with Rafa. Wash always bothered me because his death advanced nothing, it was solely for shock value. I wanted Rafa to die abruptly for that same reason, to catch readers off-guard, but I also wanted it to be meaningful in some way. The immediate result was Val's shanking of her friend's killer, and it also serves as a role changing factor for Malak, which will be mentioned briefly in the final chapter. As much as I liked Rafa in the game, I despised how her and Malak's skills worked, which ruined them a little for me. In another note, Reis and Beowulf dropped in, and you got your air battle. I hope it was to your liking, though I wanted to avoid too many crazy airborne stunts from the Valefor to preserve the fact that it's a pretty old, beat up ship itself.

Finally, I'm shocked to find that I've been working on this for an _entire year_. It would have been cool if I could have wrapped it all up on the anniversery, but time constraints suck. I wouldn't want to miss any of the fun little twists and turns I have lined up by rushing, after all. Still, it's crazy that I've been plugging away at this for a year. I need a job doing this, so it's not a Time Sink! It's been a fun year though, and I'm definitely glad I undertook this project. The support for it has been overwhelming, thank you.


	37. Rising Up

**Chapter Thirty-Seven: Rising Up**

* * *

"Ramza!" Izlude called, leaning precariously over the stone rampart.

The Dark Knight lie face down, merely an arm's length from the edge of the land that Altima had torn from the earth below. Perched upon the rocks and soil, both arms stretched out at his sides, Ramza did not move. Fear gripped Izlude's heart as he searched for a way to reach his friend, his gaze crawling across the stone wall. There were no handholds for an easy trip down, and after a moment the young knight realized there was no way he would be able to scale the wall.

Running both hands through his hair, he shouted down to Ramza once more, uncertain what else to do. A fall like that, even for a man as sound of body as Ramza, could be devastating. Izlude was beginning to despair, when a slight movement forced him to lean closer. Ramza shifted, his arms moving a little across the grass and dirt, and Izlude breathed a sigh of relief. If nothing else, the man was alive, and that was all he could have asked for.

There was nothing else Izlude could do for his friend, so with trepidation he turned away, and strode along the wall of the fort. Ramza knew the garrison better than anyone, and if he was still in the fight, he would find his way in. While his allies battled below, Izlude knew what his role would be; to help end this war as swiftly as possible.

Reaching the inner courtyard of the fort, and taking the first step down from the rampart, the knight noticed three hulking forms below. As one the Lucavi turned toward him, their collective dark gaze locking onto him as he slowly descended the stairs. They made no move to attack as he reached the courtyard that sprawled out before the fort proper, instead the three demons stared on impassively.

Izlude knew them each by name, and his eyes narrowed as he slowly approached the Lucavi. Velius stood directly in his path, flanked by his ilk on either side, all four massive arms crossed over his barrel chest. Izlude only glanced at him for a moment before his gaze slipped over to the other Lucavi.

Exodus, the Judge, stood at the right hand of the demon, dark armor reflecting the waning light of day. Aside from a pair of crimson, murderous eyes beneath a massive helm, there was nothing visible of the Lucavi itself. The creature stood taller than most of its brethren, its body completely covered in the armor of its station. Exodus was a menacing and powerful demon; built for combat more than any of its counterparts.

On the left was Famfrit, whose name came to Izlude as though he had known the Lucavi personally. The knowledge of the demon, as with all the others in their unholy order, was forever engrained in his mind. It was impossible to tell if the demon was man or woman, and even his extensive knowledge of the abyss told him nothing. Famfrit was an imposing creature in its own right, with a length of heavy chain wrapped tightly around its only arm, on the right side, a dark mist drifting lazily around its narrow torso. Famfrit's face was hidden behind a blank mask, its senses not limited by mortal means. Izlude knew in the back of his mind what these demons were capable of, yet still he strode toward them without fear.

"Stand aside," The knight said calmly, his gaze travelling between the guardians of the Bloody Angel. "I am here to see my father."

The three Lucavi regarded him silently for a long moment, without moving into a defensive position or allowing him to pass. A subtle breeze drifted across the courtyard, carrying the whispers of the abyss upon it, and as one the demons nodded their assent. Having received their orders from the Lucavi who commanded their allegiance, the three guards moved aside. Without a sideways glance, Izlude passed between them, his gaze locked on the heavy door to the fort, where Vormav waited.

* * *

With a sigh of frustration, Celia dusted her clothes off. The woman's skin was coated with grime from the aft section of the Valefor, which rested on the ground near her. Not far off, Lede took the time to dab at the small wound on her forehead, as annoyed as her twin at their predicament. No sooner had the women joined each other than a massive explosion lit up the sky, and the assassins looked skyward.

The black dragon fell, writhing, as the Peacemaker's final shot rendered it grounded. Celia, however, was unconcerned about the Lucavi beast. Her eyes remained locked on the front half of the Valefor, as it was slowly cast to the earth. The momentum from the cannon had forced the Lucavi airship to capsize, dragged downward by the weight of the Valefor that still hung tenaciously to it. With a slight feeling of sadness, an emotion with which Celia wasn't very familiar, the woman watched as the Valefor and its Captain crashed to the earth.

"There's nothing we can do for him now." Lede said quietly, taking her sister's hand gently.

Leaving Mustadio to his fate, the women turned instead to the steel golem that rested in a heap nearby. They approached Rattletrap slowly, silently thanking the machine. In the last moment of the fall, when the two women were certain they wouldn't see the light of another day, Rattletrap had saved them, hurling both women clear as the airship struck the ground.

The steel golem did not move as they reached it, both legs trapped beneath the wreckage of the Valefor. It's normally inquisitive, red gaze had gone dark, and it showed no signs of life. As one the two assassins kneeled next to it, placing a hand on Rattletrap's chest, before rising and departing. There was still a battle to be won, and their expertise and skill would no doubt be appreciated.

The two women took off at a run, swiftly approaching the mass of demons and men ahead of them, the tall grass beneath their feet a blur. When it came to sheer speed and agility, there were few in Ivalice who were a match for Celia and Lede, and the women took great pride in their abilities. They reached the battlefield in short order, hardly winded by their rapid approach, and immediately jumped into the fray.

Remaining at the fringes of the battle, the two women joined the Touten soldiers that pushed against the Lucavi forces. The knights on both fronts of the skirmish had managed to cover a lot of ground since last the twins had looked upon the struggle below the Valefor, and it seemed the demons were hard pressed to match the resolve of desperate men.

With unerring skill and accuracy, Celia and Lede quickly dispatched any of the Lucavi minions that came near, opting for the men the demons had corrupted over the less intelligent creatures that came from the abyss. The two women took such a toll in so short a time that the demons were forced to group together, hoping for strength in numbers as the assassins took them apart one by one.

Taking a breath of stagnate air, Celia snatched a small sword from the earth and buried it in the neck of one of the creatures near her, before stepping back to pick her next target. It was then that she saw the swordsman, his long strides closing the distance, as he cut his way through any that stood in his path, demon or man.

The assassin recognized the silver haired warrior immediately, and shot a knowing look at her sister. Lede nodded silently to her, sending another of the Lucavi minions sprawling in the dirt before arriving at her sister's side. Marquis Elmdore seemed entirely unconcerned with all that occurred around him, as he stalked toward the two assassins.

Sensing his purpose, the women pulled away from the battle to stand alone in what little unspoiled grass remained in the valley. There they waited, relaxed and unafraid, as Elmdore approached them. The Marquis of Limberry came to a halt not ten paces from them, blood drenched Masamune held tightly in one hand.

"I had been hoping to find you here." The silver haired noble said, a devious smirk touching his lips.

"You aren't still sore from Bervenia, are you?" Lede said calmly, returning his dark smile with one of her own.

"I've no doubt your vanguard are, at least." Celia added. "We worked them over pretty well."

There was no anger or frustration on Elmdore's face as he stared at the women, and that unnerved Celia for some reason. He'd been something of a spiteful, arrogant man when she'd seen him last, and had been certain their casual insults would get under his skin. Yet Elmdore remained even tempered, that dark smirk still plastered to his face.

"May I?" Lede asked, glancing sideways at her sister.

"By all means." Celia replied casually, conceding her the field.

With a grin of anticipation, Lede shifted one foot, and vanished from sight. A hiss of displacement announced her movement, as the assassin disappeared and crossed the distance between the Marquis and her position in an instant. By the time Celia turned her head, her sister had reappeared at Elmdore's side, and at that same moment the man's slender fingers wrapped around the woman's throat.

Celia stood in shocked silence, as the man lifted her sibling from the ground with no effort. He'd managed to not only anticipate her attack, but possessed the speed to rotate his entire body and snatch the woman by the neck. Celia moved without a second thought, her entire form blinking out of sight in an instant, as she came to Lede's aid.

The assassin appeared along Elmdore's flank, the edge of her hand already flying toward the taller man's sword arm. The twins possessed a unique knowledge of the human body, and knew precisely where to aim a strike to cause the most pain and damage. So great was their skill that they were capable of stripping the feeling from an exposed limb, rendering it paralyzed for a short time as that appendage recovered. However, before Celia could land that precise blow above Elmdore's elbow, she found herself knocked away.

Marquis Elmdore's knee had snapped up in a blur of motion, slamming into Celia's gut the moment she appeared. The impact lifted the woman bodily into the air, and sent her flying into the soft grass, a short distance away. Sucking in a ragged breath, the assassin sat up, shocked resignation touching her features.

"What are you?" The woman asked quietly, as she quickly rose to her feet.

"I am the future." Elmdore replied through a grim smile, his teeth clenched so hard they should have cracked.

With a flick of his wrist, the man hurled Lede away, the assassin flipping in the air to land in a crouch. Coughing, her windpipe still constricted by his vice grip, she leapt back up. A snarl touched the assassin's lips as she dove at Elmdore again. The Marquis easily stepped outside of her first strike, and moved his curved blade up to rest on his shoulder. With a smile of satisfaction, the man quickly evaded each of Lede's thrusts, their movements a blur as Celia looked on. Lede had always been the quicker of the two women, and watching this man, who once had given them no pause, Celia was shocked to realize that he was _faster_.

Ducking swiftly below one of Lede's jabs, Elmdore kicked the woman's ankle viciously, putting her off balance. In the same instant he brought his sword arm forward, and hit the woman like a hammer. The man's elbow and the hilt of the Masamune impacted simultaneously, striking the woman in both the chest and the mouth. Lede reeled from the blow, stumbling away and regaining her footing, as Elmdore casually stood again.

Celia knew they couldn't risk prolonging this fight, not when he was this dangerous. Snapping both hands behind her, the woman gripped the handles of the weapons holstered there. With a smooth jerk Celia yanked the pistols free, grateful that they had both spent time learning how to operate the weapons with Mustadio. She brought the two guns around in unison, and fired the moment she had Elmdore in her sights.

The Marquis shifted on one foot, bringing his sword around and rolling one shoulder back. Sidling back, the man brought the slim blade of the Masamune down, as the first bullet passed close enough to his arm to ruffle the fabric of his shirt. The second round struck his blade with a resonating cry, the sword ringing as he deflected it away.

Anger surged in Celia, as her sister took that moment to draw the pair of pistols she had carried as well. It wasn't possible, his speed; it had to be some illusion, some trick. As Lede brought her weapons around, firing both of them, Celia closed on Elmdore.

In one motion the man sidestepped the elbow she launched at his nose, using the blade of the Masamune to deflect Lede's first shot. The second managed to catch Elmdore along his flank, sinking into his side just below the ribs. Despite the bullet tearing through his flesh, the man seemed to give the wound no pause, roughly grasping Celia's shirt.

He turned in place, throwing the woman away as though she weighed nothing at all, and slashing downward with his sword. An arcing blade of wind tore from the tip of the Masamune, ripping through the air toward Celia as she flew. Shielding her face with both arms, the woman was assaulted by the sword art, several gashes appearing across her sides and shoulders.

Sliding across the grass upon landing, the woman rolled to her feet, sharp pain flowing from the bloody cuts to her body, as Lede struck. The assassin appeared behind Elmdore while his concentration was elsewhere, and leapt into the air. Rotating, the woman slammed her knee into the back of the man's head, jolting the Marquis forward for an instant.

Turning with the blow, Elmdore backhanded Lede, the impact loud against her cheek as the woman was knocked roughly to the ground. No sooner had she landed in the grass than he raised one hand, a muttered word leaving his lips. Tendrils of crimson surged from Lede's chest, as the man began to drain the very life's blood from her.

Celia was already moving as the horrific man assaulted her sister, slamming one foot into his left knee to distract him. The spell was broken off before it could do more damage, as the Marquis raised his sword above him. A wave of energy burst from the Masamune, exploding outward in all directions. The force was enough to lift Celia off of her feet, and send Lede, her skin a mottled gray pallor, sliding through the grass and dirt.

Landing harshly, her breath catching in her throat, Celia struggled to regain her footing, as Elmdore turned his gaze onto her. The man was faster than them, but together they had a chance, if it wasn't for that blasted sword. The Masamune compounded his strength and speed, and with it in his grasp the assassins couldn't stay close enough to cause any lasting damage.

As Celia rose to her feet, gasping, Elmdore raised his sword, a look of sick pleasure dominating his features. The Masamune came down, the air parting in its wake, and Celia knew she couldn't get out of the way. She could feel the power that was being unleashed as it fell, as it seemed to draw the very breath from her.

A wave of darkness passed over the woman from behind, washing over her in an instant, blocking out everything for that split second. The flood of black magic continued around and over her, leaving the woman unscathed as it rushed past. In a terrible impact, the black wave struck the sword skill Elmdore unleashed, tearing away the very ground beneath the Marquis' feet.

Following in its wake, with a rough cry of battle, was Gaffgarion. He held a massive gold sword in both hands, high above his head, as Elmdore dispelled the last of the mingling energy that had exploded in front of him. The Dark Knight used that moment of surprise to his advantage, slamming Excalibur down on the Marquis' raised sword.

The two legendary blades met in a shower of sparks, as darkness poured from Gaff's hands. It met with the spirit of Elmdore's own weapon, struggling for dominance as Gaffgarion forced his sword down harder. A brilliant flash announced the displacement of that power, staggering Celia as its energy rammed into her. With what sounded like a tortured scream the Masamune shattered just above the hilt, as Excalibur was thrown from Gaff's grasp.

The Marquis of Limberry fell onto his rear, fear registering in his face for the first time. Neither man held a weapon, unless one counted what remained of the broken sword in Elmdore's hand, but Gaffgarion wasted not a moment before pressing on. One meaty fist slammed into Elmdore's face, laying him out completely in the grass.

"Not so tough now, are you?" Gaff said scathingly, yanking the Marquis up by the collar to punch him again.

The man looked disoriented as he scrambled to his feet, the loss of his precious sword sapping a good deal of his power, and Celia knew this was the time to strike. Rolling lithely forward, the woman closed one hand around the broken blade of the Masamune. Ignoring the pain as it cut into her palm, she stepped forward quickly.

With a swift thrust the woman drove the point of the shattered sword into Elmdore's ribs, burying it deep, as Gaff bent to retrieve Excalibur. Elmdore rose to his knees, his breath a ragged hiss as he raised one hand. Magical energy pooled around his palm, as Celia dove clear of the spell that would soon follow. She expected Gaffgarion to do the same, and was impressed to see the elderly knight stride right up to the Marquis' face.

Gaff took the man's wrist in a vice grip, halting his deadly spell mid cast, and bent Elmdore's arm viciously to the side. With a look of grim satisfaction the Dark Knight raised the sword of Thundergod Cid, and brought it around in a swift arc. Blood splashed across the knight as Elmdore's head separated from his shoulders, his brilliant silver hair marred by his scarlet.

* * *

Beowulf awoke with a start, his head pounding. It took the knight a moment to recall what had happened, as he slowly moved to hands and knees. Aliste lay a short distance away, eyes closed and breath shallow. Beowulf coughed, shaking his head to clear it, before he crawled to the man's side. The Gryphon was stunned, but there seemed to be no serious injuries on him.

As Beowulf rose shakily to his feet, his attention was drawn to a queer sound nearby. Punctuated by the shallow roars of the beast was a strange snapping sound, as he gazed at the fallen black dragon. Before his eyes the creature began to change, its body contorting in ways that shouldn't have been possible. Its mass quickly compacted, the creature shrinking rapidly in the tramped grass where it had landed. Beowulf stumbled toward it, casting his gaze about for the sword he had dropped upon landing.

It seemed that the fireball had sapped the strength from it, stealing away whatever dark magic had spawned the beast. As Beowulf neared, he felt a cold hand grip his heart, as the dragon neared the end of its transformation. Its double jointed limbs snapped and popped, as the scales fell away, revealing an all too human hand below. Watching in disgust, Beowulf felt his mouth fall open as the dark dragon transformed into the only man he truly despised.

"Buremonda." Beowulf said, his voice a whisper as the man rose fluidly to his feet.

"I never expected to see you here." The former priest, said, chuckling. "But I must say I'm happy I have."

Beowulf snarled, reaching to his side only to realize he had no sword to draw. All he had was a single dagger tucked into his boot, which wouldn't allow him the use of his skills. Buremonda laughed richly, as he stalked toward the knight.

"You can't imagine the _power_ they have given me." He said, madness in his eyes. "Here, allow me to show you."

Opening his mouth, Buremonda sucked in a deep breath. His jaw unhinged as he drew air into his lungs, his mouth falling agape far more than should be physically possible. Beowulf could only look on in horror, and in the back of his mind he knew what would follow.

"It's a pity you'll die without seeing Reis again!" The man roared, deep in his throat, as orange light rolled upward from his chest.

Flames leapt past the man's lips, superheated air washing over Beowulf, as the inferno seared the grass between them. Rolling and writhing as though it had a life of its own, the fire shot toward Beowulf, as the knight stood his ground. Beowulf covered his face with one arm, reaching for the dagger in his boot. When the flames engulfed him he would throw the blade, seeking the man's throat. He would be certain that Reis would be safe, even with his dying breath.

The love of his life saved him from that fate. Reis sidled in front of Beowulf, his sword gripped tightly in her right hand. The woman snapped her other arm up, as the flames sought to consume them. From her hand came an explosion of chilled air, shards of ice spewing out to halt the inferno in its tracks. With a look of anger and determination, Reis stepped forward, forcing the fire to ebb.

She rushed forward; the forgotten magic she had learned from the beasts she had lived among displacing Buremonda's superheated breath. Beowulf could see the look of shocked resignation on the man's face as Reis reached him, glacial shards forcing the flames back into his face.

Bringing Beowulf's sword to bear, Reis stepped forward, both hands finding its hilt. The woman buried the blade into Buremonda's chest unceremoniously, as the priest struggled to understand how she stood before him. It had never occurred to him that it was truly possible to lift the curse, which had left Reis in the form of the same dragons that had fought beside them on this day.

"I'm right here, you bastard." The woman whispered maliciously, before yanking the sword free from his chest.

* * *

The sky was beautiful, brilliant shades of orange and yellow encroaching on blue as the sun set in the distance. Staring up at it, it was possible to believe that the world wasn't ending all around him. Hell, if Mustadio hadn't been in so much pain, he might have believed he had died and gone to paradise. It took the machinist a moment to realize that his vision was impaired, and only one of his eyes was seeing the beauty of the sky in the waning light of day.

Reaching up, he felt warm blood along the left side of his face, flowing lightly from his injured eye. Darkness dominated that side of his vision, as Mustadio struggled to sit up. He quickly discovered, upon falling back to the earth, that his other arm was useless. Putting weight on it had been a bad idea, as sharp pain shot through his shoulder and across his chest. Coughing weakly, the machinist gave up on rising for the moment.

He wasn't certain how much time had passed, as he lay on the soft grass, but the sound of approaching footfalls forced him up. Struggling up with his good arm, he took in the smoke and haze of the nearby Valefor, mangled and burning where it had crashed. Squinting through the acrid fog, he saw the form approaching from the downed Lucavi airship, and groped for his pistol.

It wasn't at his side, and it took the man a moment to see it with his impaired vision. Falling onto his uninjured side, he slowly crawled toward the three barreled gun, wincing as each movement sent a spike of pain up his back. Sprawling out, Mustadio reached for the pistol, snaring it with his fingers and quickly bringing the weapon around. He halted, breath catching in his throat, as his father stood over him.

Besrodio was a shadow of the man he had once been, gray lines forming a web around cracked lips. Dark circles wrapped around his eyes, as the man stared down at Mustadio, his own weapon trained on the young machinist. Silence reigned in Mustadio's mind, the sound of the burning Valefor and light breeze vanishing, as fear gripped him.

"Father?" He said, ashamed of how his voice cracked.

Besrodio's finger tightened over the trigger of his gun, as something passed over his eyes. At the last moment the man's hand snapped to the side, the bullet he fired kicking up dirt as it struck the earth near Mustadio's head. Hand shaking, the aging Machinist struggled to lower the weapon.

"Mustadio," He wheezed, his entire body trembling. "Kill me. Do it, now, before I lose control again."

Mustadio was unable to stop the tears that fell down his cheek, blurring the vision in his one good eye. He'd never believed it would come to this; turning his weapon on his own father. Before this day, he'd have told himself he could never have taken the shot. Staring in the face of the corrupted form of the man who had been his inspiration, he wasn't certain he could now.

"Please." The man continued, closing his eyes. "Release me from this curse."

With a shallow nod, tears forming streaks through the dirt on his face, Mustadio pulled the trigger.

* * *

The Impenetrable Fortress, Bethla Garrison. The daunting title matched its appearance, as the fortified structure loomed overhead. Sunlight danced off the outer walls of the fort, as Ramza in turn danced around them. Now, as he had in what felt like another lifetime, he slipped silently into its waiting arms.

He'd been drawn out of the darkness by a gentle nudge on the shoulder, and had found himself lying outside of the ramparts, a familiar beak prodding him. Atro had found him unconscious and roused him, one of his wings tucked close to his side. The chocobo wasn't able to fly, that much was clear, and Ramza had ordered him to wait outside of the walls. It had taken insistence to get the bird to listen, but with a slight huff Atro had settled down next to the fort.

Ramza rolled some of the ache from his shoulder from the fall, as he crept into the fort. He still remembered the night he had stolen away from the Northern Sky, finding refuge within the walls of Bethla, and a life he may have never had otherwise. With a small smile he recalled instantly all that had happened since then, focusing on the good memories as they came to him.

If not for this fort he would have never met any of the companions that had followed him here. He would not have been the man he was now, and it surprised him to realize how much he had missed the familiar halls he passed through. This was the place he and Izlude had laughed over dinner with the Knight Blades, where he had spent nights staring at the stars, and where he had fallen in love.

As he climbed the stairs to the inner sanctum of the fort, running his fingers across the familiar stone beside him, aware of what lie ahead, he found a sense of peace and warmth. This was home.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Wanted to get some quick closure for the ground battle, as well as give Elmdore what he deserved. That fight was rather fun for me, because before that Celia and Lede are pretty much the fastest thing on two legs. It was a little humbling for the assassins, I'd think. Plus I just loved having Gaff pound the pretty-boy monster's face in.

Wanted to finish all that up so that I could move on to the _real_ battle, which is taking place high above. I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts and predictions, if they're up to writing them out. Definitely a bit more to go, what with all the Lucavi now accounted for!

**Dark Triad:** Glad you liked how the air battle came out. I had my misgivings about it, but I pretty much doubt _everything_ I put out.

**KnightOfHolyLight:** Your wish is granted, and the twins live. I just roughed them up a little is all.

There's two chapters left in the final battle, sorry it ended up taking so long. I really intended it to only be like, four chapters _total_.


	38. The Sky Fortress

**Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Sky Fortress**

* * *

As the sun slowly concluded its daily journey, a short distance above the distant horizon, the Lucavi horde began to truly falter. With the loss of their leadership in the valley the demons, composed mostly of mindless pawns following the orders of those that held sway over them, became fearful and even more unorganized. They attacked with less fervor than before, and fell back more quickly.

In short order Agrias and Zalbag, with the aid of the Hokuten knights at their side, had cut their way to the heart of the Lucavi forces. It was only then, as dozens of the creatures that had assailed them for the entire afternoon retreated, that the two knights were allowed a measure of respite. Agrias leaned heavily against the Beoulve, her head resting wearily on his shoulder, as they watched the battle continue in their absence.

They were both born of war, thrown into the midst of the conflict with Ordallia as soon as they were old enough to hold a sword. Standing amidst the corpses of fallen demons, their armor scored and splashed with the blood of their enemies, the knights were at home. A comfortable silence was maintained, Agrias slipping one hand into Zalbag's, as the Hokuten pressed onward around them.

"Lady Oaks." A mounted knight shouted, weaving through the soldiers to rush to her side. "Finally I have found you. Her Majesty requests your presence with the rear guard."

"What?" Agrias choked, spinning toward the knight in shock, concern overriding tact. "Ovelia is _here_?"

"Yes, she and Lord Hyral have asked for you."

"Return and inform them I am on my way."

The knight nodded, departing hastily, and without a word Agrias stalked after him. Zalbag fell into step beside her, as the knights threaded through the Bervenian regiment, their pace grueling.

"I have no idea why the Queen was brought here," Agrias said calmly. "But if Delita is responsible, I may have to kill him."

"I'm quite sure murdering your regent is frowned upon, isn't it?" Zalbag shot back, giving her shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Agrias threw him a quick glare, rolling her eyes, and continued on unabated. Of course she had been exaggerating, but Delita would certainly be answering to her if he had endangered Ovelia in such a way. The battlefield was no place for royalty.

Slipping out of the front lines, Agrias jogged toward the banner of Ivalice, Delita's vanguard stepping out of her way. In moments she joined some of Ramza's allies, resting near the personal guard assigned to the Queen. Agrias wasted no time in coming to the young woman's side, the blood on Ovelia's robes setting her teeth on edge.

"Your Majesty, are you hurt?" She asked, a note of fear in her voice.

"I'm fine, Agrias. This is not my blood." The woman said calmly, the smile that barely touched her lips missing the innocence it once held.

"What are you doing here? This is no place for you."

"That's what I told her." Delita said with a slight shake of the head and a smile, approaching with a handful of Nanten Knights. "I should have locked her up before we left Lesalia."

Agrias glared at him, before turning her gaze on the others that had been gathered with them. Olan and Valmafra sat in the trampled grass, the sorceress' head resting upon the shoulder of the young Nanten. Not far from them, the young Galthana man stood alone, his gaze distant. It took Agrias only a moment to realize his sister was absent, and she had the tact to not ask of her whereabouts. As she glanced back at Zalbag, she noticed Beowulf and Reis as well, flanked by a small contingent of Lionel Gryphons.

"The battle is nearly won," Delita began calmly. "Here, at least. As satisfying as that is, we all know that it isn't the end of this conflict. The Lucavi still remain, looking down at us like some profane gods."

"Then let us rise to meet them." Zalbag suggested casually, one hand resting on his sword.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple." Beowulf explained. "The Valefor was lost, along with its captain, and even now what few suitable mounts we have must remain in the skies, in case the demons return."

"There must be some way to reach the garrison." Agrias said, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

Silence fell across the gathered warriors, each seeking a route into the sky. If they couldn't get to Bethla, where Izlude and Ramza had already set foot, this victory would be short lived. The Lucavi could simply drift away, and begin to bring more of their kind into the world of man. It would be a battle of attrition, repeated over and over, and in the end there would be more demons than men walking the earth.

"I can do it." Val said suddenly, wincing as she clambered to her feet. "With a little effort, I think I'll be able to get a small group up into the fort."

"How?" Delita asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Magic, of course." The sorceress replied, rolling her eyes.

"Let's get to it then." The gruff, familiar voice announced Gaff's presence before he arrived, and the others turned toward him.

The Dark Knight was not alone as he approached them, the twin assassins limping along in his wake from outside of the battlefield. Celia supported her sister as they trudged ahead, both women looking as though they'd been through hell. The first thing Agrias noticed, aside from the blood that coated the three late arrivals, was the massive golden sword in Gaff's hand, glinting in the waning light of day.

"That's Excalibur." Olan noted quietly, his gaze locking onto the aging knight. "Then… my father?"

"He died well, in combat, with the Marquis of Limberry."

"What of Elmdore?" The astrologist asked, swallowing hard.

"I would ask him, but it may be difficult for the man to speak without a head."

Olan nodded, falling silent as his gaze crawled across the grass. Val reached down, gently touching his shoulder in a comforting gesture. The twins collapsed onto the earth, and without a word Ovelia went to their aid. Agrias stared at the sword in Gaff's hand in disbelief, unable to comprehend what she had just heard. Orlandu was the most powerful warrior she had ever met, and it was a shock to all gathered to know he had been slain.

"You're certain you can get us into the fort?" Delita asked, finally breaking the silence, his gaze locked onto Valmafra.

"Yes." She replied. "It is simply a matter of who will be going. I would be nothing but a burden to you, having expended myself so. I'll remain here."

"Zalbag and I will go." Agrias answered with conviction, knowing already that the Beoulve would approve.

"I still got some fight in me." Gaff added, adjusting his grip on the Excalibur. "Will our fearless regent be joining the incursion?"

"Don't be foolish." Delita began, casting his gaze onto the Dark Knight. "Of course I am."

"If you'll have me, I will depart with you as well." Beowulf said, turning to his lover. "Reis, I have to..."

"I understand, and I wouldn't have you any other way." The woman replied, kissing him chastely.

"Then let's go." Olan said, rising abruptly to his feet. "Let's send them back to the Abyss."

"You're coming?" Gaff asked, raising an eyebrow slowly.

"Why wouldn't I?" Olan shot back, slightly offended. "I have as much reason to fight as any of you."

"Right, but, well, I always thought of you as more poet than warrior."

Agrias sputtered, but managed not to laugh. She was immediately contrite, remembering that Olan had just lost his only family. Olan shot the Dark Knight a withering stare, as Val too had to cover her mouth for a moment.

"I'm quite proficient at war; as much as you, I dare say. You probably were unaware that with the right calculations, it's possible to bring very powerful spells to bear with-"

"Olan," Val interrupted, taking his hand. "We know you're more than capable. Gaff was speaking in jest."

"Of course, of course." Gaff said, smirking. "Just don't forget your book."

Wordlessly Olan stepped forward, narrowing his eyes at the knight, and took Excalibur from his grasp. Gaff relinquished the sword without incident, clapping the young astrologist on the shoulder with a smile.

"The old softie would have wanted you to have it."

"I should hope so." Olan shot back. "In your hands it would be probably be traded for a pint of ale within a week."

"Can't argue that!" Gaff replied, laughing.

"Perhaps we could make for the garrison now?" Delita asked, his voice rising above the scattered chuckles from the gathered knights and soldiers.

"Of course." Olan replied. "Where do you want us Val?"

"Gather together here," The woman said, motioning for a small clearing. "Just be sure to remain still, or you might end up with part of you staying here with the rest of us. It wouldn't be pretty."

As Agrias took her place among the others, a man limped toward them. It took the Holy Knight a moment to recognize him for the blood on his face and the tightly wrapped remnants of one arm, and with some surprise she realized it was Wiegraf who had been thrashed so. The man looked as though he shouldn't have been able to stand, let alone walk, yet he came to a halt near the Queen without so much as a grimace.

"Wiegraf." Delita called, his gaze locked onto the man. "Should we fail to return, can I trust you to see the Queen safely back to Lesalia? To protect her, as you already have?"

The former Knight of Death stared at Delita impassively for a long moment, before finally nodding in agreement. Agrias watched him warily, as the knight calmly moved his sword to a more comfortable position on his hip, to enable him to draw it without strain on his missing limb.

"He fought one of the Lucavi away, in defense of the Queen." Delita whispered from her side. "If not for Wiegraf, she'd no doubt be dead."

Agrias shot a glance at the regent, taking in his words as Olan slipped his father's sword across his back and joined them. She wasn't keen on placing her complete trust in Wiegraf, but she couldn't help but appreciate his sacrifice to protect Ovelia. For now, at least, she would allow him some measure of her confidence.

Everyone took Val's advice quite seriously as they gathered together, turning into statues for a moment. Agrias let her hand slip into Zalbag's, gripping it tightly as the sorceress closed her eyes. The ground beneath the Holy Knight began to shift, as a sense of weightlessness flooded into her. She stared straight ahead, her eyes swimming out of focus, until a flash of light and a tremendous pressure moved her through time and space.

The Holy Knight stumbled as her feet met stone, and the haze of white disappeared. It had only taken the span of a heartbeat to move the warriors from the earth to the sky, and Agrias found they were standing just inside the outer wall of Bethla Garrison. Dark, ominous clouds drifted in circles above them, rumbling angrily as though they had a mind of their own.

Without hesitation Agrias and the others strode further into the fort, drawing their blades in anticipation of an ambush. No doubt the Lucavi were already aware of their arrival, and the warriors prepared themselves for the pending attack. After they passed through the inner palisade of the fortress Agrias grew nervous, but maintained some small hope that they had infiltrated the stronghold undetected.

That hope faded as they reached the inner courtyard of the fort, and saw the Lucavi that stood guard within. Three of the beasts waited for them, blocking the entrance the inner sanctum of Bethla, their massive frames towering over the warriors. Agrias sized the demons up quickly, taking up a position next to Zalbag.

"It doesn't matter to me who you want," Delita said calmly, glancing at the others before aiming the tip of his sword at the horned Lucavi in the center. "But I call that one."

* * *

Izlude shoved the heavy door inward, his face a mask of calm, knowing already what waited for him within. He could sense the presence of his father before even crossing the threshold; the demon within Vormav radiating the dark nature of its birth. As he stepped inside, Izlude spared only a passing glance at the war room before his gaze fell upon the creature he despised. He'd had countless meetings in this very room, seated with Ramza and the Blades, and he could have navigated it with his eyes closed.

His footsteps were hollow as Izlude strode to the center of the room, his gaze impassive, and Vormav smiled darkly at him. Beneath the veneer of humanity, the true nature of Hashmal's dark soul was revealed in all its horror. Swirling just beneath the surface, the darkness was easily visible to Izlude's adapted eyes. As he watched the roiling, surging evil, the young knight snarled.

"You plucked up the courage to come _here_ alone?" Vormav began, laughing. "Perhaps you aren't the coward I always thought you to be, just incredibly stupid."

Izlude said nothing in response, cocking his head to one side. He regarded the remnants of his father without emotion, his gaze cool and distant. For a long moment silence reigned over the room, and Vormav frowned, perplexed. He'd clearly expected Izlude to show some reaction to harsh words, and hadn't realized that the youngest Tingel was already far past that.

"You were always such a disappointment, even as a child." Vormav continued, seeking to break through the stoic gaze that remained trained on him. "I had hoped my son would have some measure of discipline and skill, but you were clumsy and hopeless. Hell, you spent your days clinging to your mother's skirt, as other boys your age were already practicing swordplay in the hopes of one day having a purpose. Even your sister, harlot that she was, possessed the fortitude to aid our cause, to save your feeble life. You were simply too _weak_, weren't you?"

"Is that it?" Izlude replied casually, a slight chuckle drifting through the room. "As far as last words go, those are rather pathetic. Now if you're quite finished…"

Vormav's face instantly darkened, and he growled, the emotions of the beast within giving the man's form an expression it had never held. Seething hate enveloped the former Templar's face, overcoming the smug smirk that had touched his lips only a moment before. With a hiss of steel scraping across leather, Vormav drew the sword at his hip, stalking murderously toward his son.

Izlude stood calmly in his path, narrowing his eyes as the Lucavi approached. As Vormav neared him he snarled, lunging forward, confident in his own skill with a blade. The younger knight stood his ground until the last moment, not even bothering to draw his own sword, until the point of Vormav's blade flashed toward his stomach.

Shifting his stance, Izlude shuffled to the side, the movement smooth and deceptively swift. Deflecting the thrust to the side with his elbow, the knight penetrated Vormav's guard, snapping his forearm up to strike the older man in the throat. Reeling back, hindered by his human form's need for air, Vormav hissed. Izlude strode away, smoothly drawing his sword, and turned to face his corrupted patriarch.

The young Tingel's face was emotionless as the Temple Knight charged him again, slashing down, both hands gripping his sword tightly for added strength. Izlude rotated to the right, his own weapon flashing up to meet the descending steel. With a sharp ring Vormav's sword was parried, as Izlude circled the man quickly. Vormav spun with the maneuver, quickly shifting his grip to bring his blade swiftly up, aiming the point of the sword at Izlude's side.

Bracing himself with one leg, Izlude reversed the hold on his sword, using a backhanded grip to thrust the pommel of his weapon into Vormav's chest, simultaneously blocking the upward stroke. The blow to the older knight was sharp and smooth, carrying with it enough force to cause the Templar's feet to slide backward across the stone floor.

Vormav frowned at the dent in his breastplate, which was more than capable of stopping the point of a blade without being penetrated. It should have impossible for such damage to be done to tempered steel with anything shy of a war hammer, and yet Izlude had created such a concavity with a simple pommel strike.

"Interesting." Vormav said, as magical energy swirled around his sword.

The arcane power gathered in an instant, as the Templar raised his sword, and with a quick stroke he unleashed the sword art upon the flesh of the boy in front of him. Izlude stood his ground, bringing his sword arm up. He kept the blade of his weapon flat against his forearm, bracing it with his free hand, as the glacial shards fell toward him.

_"Ameliore."_

No sooner had the one word incantation left Izlude's lips than his armor was infused with an incandescent, deep blue, a sheen of invisible force coating the steel and forming a protective barrier. In that instant the sword art struck the knight, shattering against his raised sword and magically reinforced armor. Izlude shrugged the spell off, as his father bore down on him.

Protected from the full fury of Vormav's formidable abilities, Izlude forced the older knight to keep the duel close, where he held the advantage. The Templar, like most of his brethren, had focused more of their training on the devastating skills they were renowned for, where Izlude had trained almost exclusively in close swordplay. The young Tingel instantly fell back on his training with the Blades, tempered by the knowledge and wisdom he had obtained since leaving their ranks.

Their swords crashing together with a sharp peal, the two knights fought vigorously, offering one another no quarter. Izlude's youth favored him, granting the warrior a measure of speed and coordination that the Lucavi's host lacked. He quickly established a rhythm to each stroke, the knight's awareness and skill keeping him one step ahead of the man who raised him.

Deftly parrying one of Vormav's swift cuts, Izlude sidled away, his blade flashing up in a brilliant display of speed. The Templar moved away, rolling his should back to avoid the slash, and managed to turn what would have been a damaging wound into a shallow gash across his cheek. Hissing in pain and anger, the older knight redoubled his effort, thrusting toward Izlude's exposed flank.

The young Tingel immediately snapped his arm down, using the handguard of his own weapon to knock his father's blade down. The tip of Vormav's sword glanced sharply off the floor, gouging a section of the stone, as Izlude moved inside his guard. He bent at the knees, his sword rising with uncanny accuracy, and he very nearly ran the Temple Knight through. At the last moment, however, Vormav sidestepped, taking the point of the young man's blade in the shoulder, where it bit deep into the armor beneath his robes.

Wrapping one gauntleted hand around the blade unceremoniously, Vormav jerked it free, before he snarled and shoved it away from him. The Templar stepped away, his dark gaze leveled onto the even stare of his wayward son. Dark, thick blood cascaded from his shoulder, though the man paid the damage little heed.

"The Beoulve trained you well." He said, narrowing his eyes.

"Indeed." Izlude replied, hurling the viscous fluid from the tip of his blade.

"It still won't be enough to save you." The man shot back, his voice suddenly cracking as his vocal chords reforming within his throat. "I'll show you what _true _power is!"

Izlude held his sword calmly at his side, an expression of pity and disgust on his face, as his father began to shed his human guise.

* * *

Ten years prior, Gaff would have never willingly faced a massive demon clad in black, imposing armor; especially when said demon produced a spiked mace that was as tall as any man, the colossal weapon resting upon one thick pauldron. Yet here he now stood, facing down one of the Lucavi of legend, and the Dark Knight couldn't help but sigh at his chosen path. Things had been so much simpler before he had stumbled across Ramza Beoulve. Holding his sword in a white knuckle grip, the man regarded the demon silently, as it slowly lumbered toward him. Glancing to the young astrologist at his side, Gaff nodded at the beast, giving the youth leave to start things off.

"Big and ugly is your department." Olan said quietly, frowning as he sized up the monstrous hulk of steel.

Gaff chuckled lightly, as the boy raised Excalibur above his head. The two warriors separated, dividing the attention of the brute between them. Exodus clearly saw Gaff as the primary threat, with good reason, for he immediately turned his lumbering gait to rush toward the man.

"Lovely." The man muttered, as he unleashed his dark skills upon the Lucavi.

Even as the shimmering, ethereal spike tore through the demon, Exodus hurled his mace down. The sword art barely slowed him, and Gaff was instantly backing hurriedly away. With a tremendous crash, the spiked head of the mace slammed into the stone floor, sending loose flakes and dust into the air.

In that same moment a bolt of energy struck the creature in the back, the inimitable spellwork of the astrologist rolling through. Exodus barely stumbled as the magic missile was set upon him, yanking the heavy mace free of the floor. It seemed as though the spell had broken harmlessly upon that sinister armor, as had Gaff's sword skill. It wasn't likely the touch of a blade would do much more.

His gaze travelling over the goliath, Gaff circled back, searching for an opening to exploit. If they couldn't find some way to get past the Lucavi's thick armor, the two warriors would expend themselves needlessly, and Gaff had never been one to waste his energy on fruitless endeavors. Backing slowly away from the plodding behemoth, Gaff tossed another sword skill at the beast, and watched it strike harmlessly on its protective casing.

Exodus was relentless in his slow advance, its unfathomable crimson gaze never wavering from the man it sought. It was in those eyes, shielded by a gleaming black helm, that Gaff found his target. He glanced quickly at the astrologist, who sidled alongside the brute cautiously.

"Olan," The Dark Knight rumbled, tapping the dark circles beneath his own eyes with two fingers. "Why don't you show me just what you can do?"

The dark haired youth nodded in understanding, slinging his father's sword across his shoulder. Standing behind the Lucavi, the boy wouldn't have a clear shot unless Gaff could bring the demon to face him. Taking a deep breath, and pushing down the feeling that he was going to regret this, the experienced warrior charged forward.

With a distracting cry, Gaff rushed toward the towering demon, as Exodus swung his mace around in a deadly arc. The old knight bent forward as he reached the Lucavi's form, diving toward the ground at its feet. He struck the smooth stone roughly, sliding forward as that heavy mace flew over his head. Gaff skipped across the floor between the legs of the demon, aware of the strain on his less agile body, as Exodus turned to pursue him.

The moment the demon had spun, it realized what waited for it. Lighting coiled from Olan's fingertips, leaping through the air as the creature finished its rotation. The flitting energy flew over Gaff's head, forcing the man to shield his eyes from the light and heat, and impacted in a potent display of static discharge. The bolt found its mark, striking Exodus directly in the gap of its helmet, and nearly toppling the demon.

Gaff rose to his feet as the Lucavi roared, the deep rumbling sound more tumultuous than the most deafening thunderclap, and Gaff smiled in grim satisfaction. The immense, walking mound of steel was far from finished, but that would deter him somewhat.

* * *

Before Izlude's eyes, his father changed. The man shed mortality and radiated suffering, as golden fur began to sprout from Vormav's very flesh. Izlude watched with mild disgust, having seen enough of the Lucavi's kind to keep the transformation from shocking him. He stared at the creature with disdain, adjusting the grip on his sword as Hasmal showed his true colors.

The beast held the form of a bipedal lion, a thick mane surrounding a feral countenance. Remnants of a Templar's armor hung loosely over the demon's massive frame, most of the polished steel clattering to the stone floor as the body of the Tingel patriarch grew and changed. The transformation was swift and complete, taking away a middle-aged knight and replacing him with a furry menace. Hashmal's laughter, as much roar as anything, filled the room as the creature thrust its chest out, reveling in the freedom it had attained. Those dark, sinister eyes shifted to the young knight sharing the room, and a jagged grin met Izlude.

"Much better." Hasmal growled, letting loose another ear splitting roar. "Now to take care of you!"

Izlude was already moving forward as his opponent raised both wickedly clawed hands, speaking quickly in a language so ancient that there wasn't a man in Ivalice that would understand the words, with the exception of Izlude. He knew instantly what dark magic the demon was calling forth, as the knight strode purposefully toward the unholy visage of his father.

The young warrior didn't break stride as Hasmal unleashed his sorcery, launching a sphere of pure darkness, the size of Izlude's head. The orb flew through the air, drawing the very heat from the room as it sought to consume the human before it. With a calm expression upon his face, his gaze locked on the demon, Izlude walked right to it.

His hand snapped up, slapping the sphere aside with only a small amount of effort, and he continued toward Hasmal without hesitation. The ball of arcane force slammed into the wall behind Izlude, decimating the stone and mortar and launching particles of dust high into the air. The knight paid little mind to the aftermath of the spell that should have done the same to him, as he leapt at the demon.

Hashmal seemed to falter for a moment, clearly not expecting his spell work to be so easily displaced, and Izlude dragged his sword roughly along the demon's right flank. In that same instant the knight ducked low, slipping beneath the massive arm that swung toward his face, and smoothly rolled clear of the large creature. Izlude was on his feet in an instant, calmly pacing, as Hashmal spun to face him.

The demon snarled, and made use of its own inhuman strength and agility. Two steps brought the beast to Izlude, clawed fingers slashing toward the knight's face, without slowing for a moment in its charge. Izlude deftly avoided being blinded, as Hashmal followed through by slamming one knee hard into his chest. Launched backward, Izlude managed to keep his footing, though just barely, as the demon bore down upon him once more.

Raising his arm to protect his face, Izlude found his wrist caught in a vice grip, as Hashmal's powerful jaws clamped down over the gauntlet that protected his arm. The pressure was enough to bend the steel armguard, even though the magic Izlude had imbued it with should have prevented such damage, and the knight found that his feet had left the ground.

Hashmal stood to full, hefting him off of the floor by that trapped arm, and sought to wrap both massive arms around Izlude's torso. The knight reacted instantly, planting one foot on the demon's chest and using the leverage to force the demon's chin up with his arm. He slashed out, his blade catching mostly the thick mane that protected the creature's throat, but it managed to slice into the flesh along the side of Hasmal's neck.

Slamming his other foot into that shallow wound, Izlude kicked himself free of the demon, landing roughly on his back and rolling to the side, as a massive foot slammed into the stone where he had fallen. The knight moved to one knee at the demon's side, snagging the dagger tucked into his boot and jamming the blade deep into the beast's leg in one smooth motion.

Rising swiftly, the young knight sidled away from Hasmal, as the demon slammed one enormous fist into the floor. Instantly shockwaves rolled away from the impact, overtaking Izlude before he recognized the spell. He was lifted from his feet and propelled away, bouncing once on the floor before he managed to flip lithely back to his feet.

Taking a deep, annoyed breath, Izlude walked toward the demon, whispering a quick incantation as he closed the distance between them. Turning his casual stride in a charge, the knight raised his hand, as white light drifted across his fingers. The spell came to its completion a moment before he reached Hashmal, exploding from his palm. Tendrils of light, radiant and thin, flashed into the demon's chest, passing through the Lucavi with enough force to stagger it.

In that same instant, Izlude brought the fight to his father with a fury. He attacked the demon head on, ducking below one of the creature's arms and slashing upward. The tip of his sword dragged up Hashmal's side, as the knight turned his cut, raking the length of his sword back down the Lucavi's chest. Bile black blood poured out across the demon's coat, as it swung one arm down toward Izlude's head. Bracing himself, the knight took the blow along the arm, shielding his face with it as he shifted to the side.

He issued another quick slash to the creature's torso, backed by strength that exceeded the capabilities of a normal man, followed by a pommel blow to the demon's side. Hearing the crack of shattering bone within Hashmal's frame, Izlude bent at the knees, and leapt up. Slamming his knee into a muscled, wounded chest, the knight brought his sword down in a heavy overhead slash, burying the blade deep into the demon's shoulder.

Feeling a pair of massive hands close around his stomach and chest, seeking to crush him, Izlude smiled grimly. He slammed his hand down on the hilt of his sword, accenting the move with a word of power as ancient as any the Lucavi would know. Arcane force rushed down the length of his blade, exploding into the demon's body.

Izlude was thrown back from the power of the spell that shredded Hashmal's shoulder, relieving it of the use of one arm. The demon howled and stumbled away, as the knight landed roughly on some of the rubble produced by their battle. As Hashmal fell to one knee, Izlude rose to his feet, stalking quickly toward the wounded demon.

"How?" It roared, viscous blood falling from its chin. "Where did you obtain such strength?"

"You still haven't figured it out?" Izlude replied, mocking the creature. "I know every move you're going to make, every piece of dark power you will call on. You never stood a chance."

The demon's claws dug deep into the floor, gouging chunks away, as Izlude looked on. There was certainly still some fight left in the beast, but Izlude remained unconcerned. He'd known from the start just how this was going to end, even if Hashmal didn't. The Lucavi couldn't have known the knowledge they'd unintentionally made the knight privy to, and how effective it would be when used against them.

"Now _this_ is a sight."

Izlude froze, instantly recognizing the feminine voice that drifted through the room. Slowly he turned to the source, color slowly draining from his face. Morrigan stood in one corner of the demolished room, arms crossed casually across her bare stomach. The sight of his sister, or what was left of her, sickened Izlude, and at the same time fear crept into his heart for the first time.

The Lucavi sauntered over to her fallen kin, never taking her dark gaze off of Izlude. She was dressed for war, a layer of light steel covering her chest and shoulders. A pair of armored greaves protected the demon's legs, halting halfway up her thigh, and just below the metal skirt that sat low on her waist. As she walked, Morrigan absently tapped one metal finger on the heavy gauntlet of her other arm, smiling warmly.

"Shemhazai," Hashmal rasped, his voice thick and wet. "The boy has touched the Dark. You must destroy him."

Morrigan's face underwent an instant transformation, all amusement vanishing along with her smile. The Lucavi shifted her gaze to the Bringer of Order, a look of pure contempt dominating her features.

"You dare to give _me_ orders?" The woman said, one hand snaring the back of Hashmal's head. "This mortal took you apart with ease. Look at you, you're pathetic. Not fit for our new world."

Hashmal gasped, its bloodstained maw opening, as Morrigan yanked her fellow demon's head back. In the same instant the Lucavi stepped slightly in front of him, and struck. An armored hand was thrust forward, penetrating the demon's chest as though it had met no resistance. Impaled by her arm, Hashmal cried out for but a moment before a flash of darkness announced his departure from the world of men. All that remained was an amber stone, held tightly in Morrigan's fist. The woman regarded the Leo stone curiously, before turning to face Izlude once more.

"I feel much better." The woman said lightly, a smile returning her countenance to its amused state.

"You… killed him?" Izlude asked, somewhat shocked.

"Oh I'm terribly sorry, did you wish to finish Hashmal? Forgive me for being so inconsiderate, I should have left him to your sword."

Izlude remained silent, staring coolly at the demon. Shemhazai was a master of manipulation and deception, capable of swaying even the most devout of men. The knight knew this, and at the same time he was aware of the great darkness that swelled within the body of his sister. He knew, in the back of his mind, every malevolent desire behind her innocent gaze.

"Tell me, Izlude, what else have you discovered about us? About me?" Morrigan inquired, raising one eyebrow. "I admit I didn't realize allowing Chaos an opportunity to redeem himself could be used against us."

"Chaos?"

"Wait," The woman replied, laughing. "You mean with all the knowledge you managed to attain, you don't even know who it came from? How _delightful_. Chaos was the first of our kind to come to your world, though he refused to do what was required of him. He wished instead to use his power for petty desires."

"You mean Rudvich? The one Ramza and I fought in Zaland?"

"The same. He begged me for a chance to prove his loyalty by slaying the Beoulve, using you as his vessel." Morrigan supplied, absently stroking her chin with one metal finger. "That's twice he's failed me, now that I think back on it."

"My knowledge is incomplete, I admit, but I know enough." Izlude said coldly, his gaze locked onto the woman.

"I'm sure you do." Morrigan replied, sighing. "So while I'm quite delighted with how you handled Hashmal, the feeble lout, I'm afraid I can't allow you to live."

Izlude took a step back, fear sliding into his features, as the woman raised her hand. Arcane power pooled around her fingertips, rapidly building and swirling through the air. Izlude knew much of the magic that was wrenched from the Dark, but Shemhazai's power was beyond the scope of his knowledge. Raising his sword, he backed away, uncertain of what to do.

"Morrigan!"

The door behind Izlude practically exploded, as Ramza burst into the room, the massive gauntlet on his arm nearly smashing the heavy wood in two. Izlude's gaze shot from his friend to the Lucavi, as her spell slowly dissipated. A rapturous look had taken the woman's features, the small smile on her face dark and malicious.

"Ramza Beoulve." She said quietly, licking her lips. "I've been waiting for you."

* * *

A peal of thunder drowned out the battle below, as Agrias unleashed her sword skill. She punctuated the sound with a flash of lighting, the translucent blade slamming into Famfrit. The woman stood a short distance from the three other knights, as they fought to keep the Lucavi pair at bay.

Velius and Famfrit had attacked as one, assaulting the heroes relentlessly. Agris and Zalbag had instantly separated, spreading out to make it more difficult for the demons to launch their powerful spells. She had ended up near Delita, as she constantly kept moving to avoid the explosions of arcane might that Velius sent after her.

The regent moved in on the heels of her sword art, accosting the horned Lucavi in the same instant her skill struck its partner. A pillar of power descended upon Velius as Delita closed on it, leaping into the air and raising his sword. Not far from them, Beowulf and Zalbag took the fight to Famfrit.

Agrias could do little with Delita in her way, so she quickly sidled to the side, as the man was knocked to the side by the demon. Delita rolled across the ground, and Agrias kept careful watch on his movement, waiting until she was certain the man was clear before she struck again. Blasting the Lucavi with another of her holy arts, she darted ahead, snagging the man's arm and helping him up.

There was no time for planning or strategy, as the demons kept up a constant stream of spells. Velius buffeted the warriors with searing heat and frost touched wind, speaking rapidly in ancient tongues. A glance at Zalbag confirmed that the other abomination was following the same ploy, as it drifted through the war yard.

Taking a deep breath, Agrias charged at Velius, her blade flashing in the waning light to the west. The stone beneath the beast's feet shattered with the force of her magic, striking Velius with all the force the woman could muster. The demon took the sword skill in stride, as a pillar of flame exploded beneath Agrias' feet. The woman planted one foot and leapt away, narrowly avoiding the inferno as it burst into the air.

Landing hard, she was aware of Delita as he leapt over her, using her charge as a distraction to get in close. The man slashed outward as he neared the demon, a thin spike of crimson tearing through Velius' leg. The demon stumbled slightly, but stood its ground as Delita closed the gap between them. He surged ahead, aiming the point of his blade at the Lucavi's gut, but he never made it close.

For a moment Agrias wasn't certain what had yanked him to the side, as she scrambled to her feet. The chain had wrapped around the man's leg so swiftly, jerking him roughly from his feet, that she hadn't noticed it initially. As quickly as Famfrit had stole Delita's legs from him he had relinquished, turning his attention back to the other men.

The two Lucavi grew closer to each other, using their spells in tandem to keep the humans off balance, and Agrias found herself switching between them often. The four warriors kept some distance, constantly moving around the creatures as lightning was called from the heavens and shards of ice exploded around them. Famfrit and Velius were going to great lengths to keep each other protected.

Frustrated, Agrias slipped in close, hitting the two demons as hard as she could with her own abilities. She hadn't been expecting Famfrit's speed, his smooth movements behind that dark mist deceptively swift. The creature snapped its arm toward her, the length of chain attached to it flashing through the air between them in an instant, and snaring her by the throat.

It locked tightly around her neck, instantly preventing an inhalation, and the knight found she was lifted bodily into the air. The chain tightened as she was brought up, the metal links constricting her throat lifting her as though they were alive, holding her easily aloft. Agrias didn't relent despite her position, hitting the demon with a sword skill even as darkness began to flood into the corner of her vision.

Charging ahead, narrowly avoiding a sphere of flame as it impacted on the ground behind him, Beowulf slammed his sword down upon the chain. The blow only served to tighten Famfrit's weapon, and the man took a step away, raising his sword once more. Energy swelled out from the blade, rushing into the length of metal, and instantly the chain began to sag. The metal links rapidly changed in texture, hardening and becoming brittle, as the Gryphon Knight transformed them into stone. It was only a moment later when the entire chain shattered, dropping Agrias to the floor. She stumbled, coughing, before Zalbag was at her side, acting as her guard until her breath returned to her.

Sucking in a cool gulp, the Holy Knight pushed ahead, forcing Zalbag to follow. Delita and Beowulf remained close to the two demons, preventing them from bringing their spells to bear, and they were quickly joined by Agrias and Zalbag. The four knights threw their sword arts at the demons relentlessly, seeking an opening to get in closer and do real damage.

As Agrias neared Velius, shards of glacial cold descending upon the demon, she felt the air shift. The demon intentionally allowed her attack to land, bringing him to one knee, in order to complete his incantation. A wave of unholy magic rolled outward from the Lucavi, washing over the four warriors before they knew what had happened.

Agrias once again found the breath stolen from her, and she and the others were thrown back as though they were parchment in a strong wind, bouncing across shattered stone and rolling into the wall of the war yard. Gasping, the woman moved to her hands and knees, her head swimming as she looked for Zalbag. Using the wall for support, the Holy Knight slowly stood, her legs quivering.

Nearby, Zalbag and the other knights struggled to stand as well, the dark magic having sapped their strength as completely as it hers. Meanwhile, Famfrit and Velius closed on them, the demons speaking in unison. Arcane energy pooled around them, as the creatures prepared a spell to finish off the humans. Agrias hadn't the strength to raise her sword yet, as she fought to put breath back in her lungs. The four knights were lambs to the slaughter, unable to do anything but watch in horror as Famfrit and Velius unleashed the heart of the abyss upon them.

In the end, it was Rattletrap who saved them.

* * *

**Author's Note:** You didn't really think Rattletrap would go down without at least getting the chance to beat up on the Lucavi some more, did you? Airship landing on the legs? Pah,_ I've_ had worse!

I spent the last week plugging away at this chapter, changing dialogues and scenes over and over in an attempt to get it perfect. I'm still not completely happy with some parts of it, but I finally forced myself to just finish it up and upload. If I put it off any longer, I might never get it posted. It's been grueling and full of small blocks.

Some people might get where the Dark comes from, and it was something I had hinted at several times leading up to this chapter. Izlude is still human, but he's definitely a bit more powerful than he was before. I actually wanted to make his fight with Hashmal a complete curb-stomp to show this, but decided against it. I couldn't really injure him, either, because as you can see Shemhazai has arrived, and he'd be decimated if he had gotten hurt.

I honestly love writing Morrigan's dialogues. It comes so easy to put it together, with her aloof mock sincerity and inner darkness threatening to come out. It's really fun to do, and I wish I'd had more opportunity for it. Expect to see Velius, Famfrit, and Exodus working together a bit more in the next chapter too. The next chapter is the final actual piece, and I expect it to be quite a bit longer. After that, perhaps something of a closer. Thanks for the reviews and Trope entries, they're always entertaining to read.

**Dark Triad:** I'd like to think Besrodio's situation in the story is akin to Zalbag's canon possession in Murond. Zalbag didn't offer himself to the Lucavi, but they had the power at that point to take him by force, corrupting him in a moment of weakness. Think of Besrodio's scene that way. I doubt it's something the Lucavi be able to do quickly on a large scale, but who's to say that all the normal corrupted humans they've been fighting weren't taken against their will?

**Vegeta the 3rd:** Leave it to Gaff to brawl his way through Elmdore. I honestly don't think the man could have done it any other way, given how he simply is. I honestly feel he's somewhat lacking in this chapter, but I can't quite figure how he'd approach something like Exodus.

**Caellach:** I have seen FMA before, and thought it was great, but my experience with such bodily damage comes more from the real world. I served in the military not long ago, and saw my share of injuries overseas. Things like that make you appreciate how real the damage can be, and the effects it can have on people. I never saw someone need an eyepatch, though I would have rocked one if I had one. I'm glad the twins grew on you, because the definitely grew on me. I hadn't planned on having them do all too much, and just kind of be around, but as time went on I realized that they were incredibly fun to write about. They're pretty much my Ensemble Darkponies as well. In a final note: Yes, there will be an epilogue, and it won't be ten years later.


	39. Dark Binding

**Chapter Thirty-Nine: Dark Binding**

* * *

The very essence of existence warped around Morrigan, distorting Ramza's vision as he gazed upon the demon. The knight could feel the shift in the air, the sheer power locked within the Lucavi leaving an impression in the world around her. With just an internal flex of her limitless, dark potential, the demon prepared her body for the men who had come to slay her.

Silently, the black gauntlets that covered Morrigan's arms grew to protect her shoulders and back. The dark, chitinous armor expanded over her in segments, gleaming against the ambient torchlight. In the span of a heartbeat Morrigan's form was shrouded in the Dark, the metallic substance that rapidly covered her bare flesh of similar stock as the sword Ramza held tightly in his grasp. The flesh that the woman had chosen to flaunt was hidden from view, transforming the demon into a formidable creature of war; leaving only her head unprotected.

Ramza cast a quick glance at his fellow knight, his brother in arms, before moving. He would not be intimidated by the creature that had taken everything from him, and he would not show the Lucavi a moment of mercy. Izlude knew this as well as he, and would fight just as hard to rid the world of its darkness. They'd both come to Bethla knowing what sacrifices may be required of them.

Closing on Morrigan, the arrogant smirk upon her lips only fueling his fury, Ramza raised his sword. Slashing out, the Beoulve sought to test the mettle of his opponent's armor, and met with one armored fist. Morrigan struck the flat of his blade with one hand, sidling to the side as the man reached her, and raked at him with the talons on her gauntlet.

Ramza allowed the claws to gouge through the armor of his chestplate, bringing the massive construct on his left arm to bear. The knight slammed the artificial appendage into Morrigan's chest, relishing in the feel of it as the demon's feet slid across the stone beneath them. Morrigan's smile never left her face as friction halted her backslide, and Izlude struck in that same instant.

His thrust came wide as the demon turned, gracefully avoiding the tip of his sword and calmly backhanding his chest. The impact was like a hammer blow, picking the knight up as though he weighed nothing, and casting him to the floor in a heap. The demon's armor wasn't cumbersome in the least, it seemed, offering her full mobility and strength despite its appearance.

Snarling, Ramza charged her, using his massive appendage to snare the Lucavi's arm. The knight's blade caught beneath Morrigan's ribs, biting deep into the demon's armor, as she wrenched her trapped arm free. Both clawed hands snagged the gap in the man's armor on either side of his chest, and with little effort the demon hurled him away. Ramza was airborne for but a moment before he landed roughly, rolling to a crouch and locking his gaze back on his foe.

The moment his eyes fell upon Morrigan, she loosed darkness upon him. A globe of black, swirling with the formidable power of the abyss, flew through the air between them. Ramza reacted instantly, raising his massive left arm and bracing himself. Shielding his body and face with the thick metal, the knight planted his rear foot wide, as the sphere slammed into him. The dark energy burst across the gauntlet, scoring the steel as it blew past his body. A bitter chill passed through the Beoulve, all of the light in the world extinguished for but a moment, before heat and light returned to his life.

Rising quickly, still shaking off the effects of the spell, Ramza noted that Morrigan's armor appeared to be untouched. The damage he'd done to the chitinous black metal had repaired itself in a moment, leaving no trace of where his sword had bit into Morrigan's side.

"Come now boys, I thought you came here to kill me?" Morrigan said lightly, as that same energy drifted down her arms.

The demon armed itself, weapons conjured from the shadows around her and solidifying before Ramza's eyes. A lance formed from nothingness, easily as long as Ramza was tall, in the Lucavi's right hand. In her left came a sword resembling the very one Ramza carried, though considerably shorter. Absently Morrigan hefted the heavy lance, testing its weight and balance, as Ramza righted himself.

He would not give the demon the pleasure of goading him, though the trace of Meliadoul's voice that remained brought about a quiet rage within him. Wordlessly the Beoulve stalked toward the demon, as Izlude mirrored his advance from a short distance away. As they neared, Morrigan crouched, poised like a cuar preparing to pounce, and Ramza charged.

Morrigan angled the lance away to receive him, and met the Beoulve's sword with her own. The dark blades crashed with a sharp ring, and Morrigan sidled slightly away, bringing her lance around as Izlude arrived as well. Narrowly avoiding the tip of the weapon, the second knight closed in.

The three warriors descended into a hectic melee, moving across the expansive chamber rapidly. Ramza and Izlude fought in tandem, accosting the demon at every turn as their deadly dance took them in a wide circle. The time they had spent together served them well, as the two men gave Morrigan not a moment to prepare after fighting one of them off. Yet despite their coordination and skill, the Lucavi managed to parry and avoid every one of their cuts, countering with her own at each opportunity.

Ramza was quietly in awe of Morrigan's skill with a blade, which was no doubt tempered with what remained of Mel's ability as well. The matriarch of the St. Konoe Knights was truly a battle maiden, her heart and hands as well honed as the sharpest of blades. The battle progressed in a constant, rapid pace, each of the three pushing themselves as hard as they ever had in an attempt to gain the upper hand.

Wiping a trace of blood from his lips, where Morrigan's elbow had caught him, Ramza gripped his sword tightly. The Beoulve shifted his position, slipping around Izlude as he fought ferociously with the demon, to engage her right side. In that instant Izlude was repelled by a solid kick to the chest, and Morrigan brought her lance around like a club. Ramza expected the maneuver, and his augmented arm rose to meet her blow.

The knight snared the shaft in the thick metal digits of his gauntlet, thrusting his sword forward in the same motion. Morrigan parried the strike, circling away from the man, and Ramza used that to his advantage. The gears within the metal arm he had donned groaned with exertion, as the Beoulve used it to swing the demon's lance away. Morrigan clung tenaciously to the polearm as she was brought in a wicked arc, finally releasing her hold as both feet left the ground.

Flying away from the knight, the Lucavi rolled lithely in midair, to plant both feet lightly against the wall she would have struck. From there the demon bound to the floor, rolling to her feet in an instant, and leaving Ramza more frustrated than before. The armor seemed to offer the demon even more mobility rather than less, and he was beginning to doubt their ability to get deep into the creature's guard.

Casting the lance to the side, where it instantly vanished, Ramza charged the demon once more. Morrigan met him with a tight lipped grin, their swords crashing together over and over, forcing Ramza back. The demon's strength and speed beggared description, and all Ramza's skill with a sword paled in comparison. He fought on pure instinct, each parry moving into a slash that in turn was deflected and countered. The man could see nothing but the flash of darkness that was Morrigan, her cold gaze and pale skin filling his vision. There was no world outside of their personal combat, and for a long moment they both forgot about the other warrior in their midst.

Stars flooded into Ramza's vision as the pommel of the demon's conjured sword struck his head, staggering him. Pain followed an instant later, as Morrigan's blade cut through his armor as though it were no more than soft leather. The diagonal slash opened the man's breastplate, thankfully preventing the demon's sword from cutting too deep into the flesh of his torso. Ramza stumbled back, blood pouring from the fresh wound, as Morrigan laughed aloud.

In that same moment, his head swimming, Ramza saw Izlude. The knight dove into Morrigan's back, slamming the pommel of his sword into the demon's hand, hard enough to force both of their weapons to fall away from their grip. Izlude wrapped both arms tightly around the Lucavi, pinning Morrigan's arms to her sides, as the demon thrashed about angrily.

"Now!" The young knight's cry was cut short as the back of Morrigan's head slammed into his mouth, blood splashing across his lips.

Ramza surged forward, his sword abandoned as Morrigan managed to free one of her arms. He closed the distant between them, slapping the demon's clawed hand away as he raised the massive appendage, now sluggish from the damage it had sustained, that covered his left arm. Opening the metal fist of the gauntlet, Ramza slammed its open palm against Morrigan's chest, revealing the arm's true purpose.

Housed within the palm of the construct, giving it the power necessary to function on the comparatively weaker arm of a man, was the Cancer stone. As the holy stone touched Morrigan's armor, the black segments instantly parted, falling away from the auracite's light. A shrill scream emanated from Morrigan as the light flowed into her, the demon's hand clamping over Ramza's throat.

The knight ignored the blood that streamed down the side of his neck, the breath stolen from him, and snagged Morrigan's arm with his right hand. He pushed into the demon, pressing Cancer hard into the Lucavi's chest. As the demon thrashed between the two men, fighting against the purifying light of the holy stone, Ramza felt a swell of energy building in front of him. He tightened his grip on the demon's arm, gritting his teeth, as the darkness exploded outward.

Ramza was thrown violently away, but did not relinquish his hold on the woman's arm, as he was lifted and flung across the room with the expulsion of Shemhazai's power from its host body. He landed roughly, crashing to the floor with enough force to propel the remaining air from his lungs and fill his vision with darkness. He lay silently for a long moment, head throbbing, until the familiar weight on his chest entered his awareness. On top of him, a soft pressure against his shredded breastplate, Meliadoul stirred.

* * *

With a tremendous crash the heavy doors that flanked the courtyard burst inward, spraying chunks of wood through the air, and Rattletrap burst into view. The massive construct took two steps before the sound of steel grinding upon stone announced his leap. Hurtling through the air, the metal golem landed directly in the path of Velius and Famfrit's sorcery.

Rattletrap turned to take the brunt of the dark magic in the chest, his soulless nature serving to dissipate the attack as it washed over him. The golem was impervious to even such potent magic, and his mere presence took much of the force from the spell before it washed over the humans that remained huddled behind him. Despite that, Delita still found he was forced to his knees by the sheer power behind the incantation, and could only watch in surprise as the golem took to the fight it had been created for.

Both legs of the construct were mangled to the point that the Regent was shocked that Rattletrap could even stand, but the metal giant seemed to not notice this impediment. Rotating quickly, before the Lucavi could assess this new threat, Rattletrap turned his attention to Exodus, who was closing quickly on Gaff and Olan.

With an audible groan the golem's chest plate slid open, a silvery blue glow lighting up the cloud darkened ground in front of it. In that same instant Velius and Famfrit surged forward, and a beam of energy exploded from Rattletrap. The heavily armored Lucavi in its path was caught as it bore down on Gaff, the force of the chest cannon throwing Exodus clean through the wall of the courtyard.

Before Rattletrap could send a second blast to finish the demon off, a length of chain wrapped tightly around one arm, constricting it tightly as Famfrit came to his fellow Lucavi's aid. The golem was unperturbed by the seizure, and used the links connecting them to his advantage. With a tremendous groan Rattletrap yanked the levitating demon to him, slamming his fist into the creature hard enough to force it to the ground.

Delita struggled to his feet as Velius fell upon the steel construct, two massive forms colliding with enough force to tear chunks of stone from the floor beneath them. Rattletrap stumbled away from the blow, and was yanked to the ground by Famfrit's secured grip on his arm. Noting the damage to the golem's legs, Velius stomped down hard on the already frail juncture. With a grinding sound Rattletrap's knees were crushed beneath the weight, as the golem struck out at the demon.

A massive steel fist struck the Lucavi's face, forcing Velius to fall back a step, as the metal man quickly rose onto his demolished knees. Once more he used the leash to Famfrit to drag the demon to him, his restrained arm wrapping around the demon to form a crushing pressure against his chest.

"**Final Countermeasure Initiated. Self Destruct Activated."**

Famfrit screamed in defiance, struggling in vain to escape from the golem's inhuman hold. Velius swiftly abandoned his ally, retreating from Rattletrap, as the construct raised his free arm. The golem's hand detached, flying through the air in an instant to snare the fleeing demon's leg. Velius was yanked off his feet as the cable housed in Rattletrap's arm began to retract, dragging the demon across the stone floor.

Delita darted forward to snag Agrias by the arm, as the woman looked on in awe, and dragged her back. They needed to put as much distance between them and the golem as possible, though Delita wasn't even sure that would help. Velius snagged a hole in the floor, and with an terrible whine the gears in Rattletrap's arm gave out. Shoving Agrias to the Beoulve near him, Delita sidled against the far wall, as Olan and Gaff reached them.

A loud hiss emanated from Rattletrap, as steam escaped several vents along the golem's back. The construct held fast to the two Lucavi he had snared, heat pouring off of his steel frame. Olan spoke rapidly, stepping in front of the gathered knights, as their entire world was bathed in light.

The explosion was without sound for a split second, as a myriad of hot colors burst from within Rattletrap's chest. In that instant Delita felt the detonation tug at him, pulling him forward as the golem's frame warped and exploded outward. A wave of flaming steel and flesh expanded outward, consuming almost the entire courtyard in an instant.

Fire licked at the shield that Olan had conjured, the heat from the other side of the arcane wall forcing Delita to shield his face. The intense blast lasted only a moment, slamming against the barrier hard and instantly falling away. Olan fell to his knees from the strain the blast had put on him, as Delita took in the destruction.

Rattletrap and Famfrit were completely obliterated, a smoking crater all that remained where they had been. The floor and walls of the courtyard were scorched and blackened, stone and mortar cracked from the explosion. Beowulf quickly helped the exhausted Olan to his feet as Delita rushed ahead, his gaze locked on Velius.

The Lucavi had been thrown across the courtyard, its skin charred and seared, but still the demon remained. Slowly Velius rose, shaking its head, and surveyed its surroundings. Delita moved before any of the other knights had even thought of it. The demon was weakened, injured, and there would be no better time to strike.

Out of the corner of his eye Delita noticed Exodus, as the massive brute shouldered its way through the hole in the wall it had been punched through. He paid the demon no mind, confident that he would reach Velius before the other Lucavi could come to its aid.

Behind him, the hollow footfalls of some of the others followed, apparently realizing what he was doing. Delita didn't slow in his charge, leaping over the still smoldering crater and straight at the smoking four armed creature. Velius roared in anger as Delita reached it, lashing out at him with its two right hands. Ducking below the swing, Delita planted one foot and launched himself up at the beast. With a sickening sound the tip of his sword plunged deep into the Lucavi's chest, buried almost to the hilt in Velius' charred flesh.

All four of the creature's arms clamped around him, receiving the knight with a crushing embrace. Feeling his armor constrict around his chest and back, Delita gasped, the air forced hard from his lungs. With great effort he twisted his sword within the demon, planting one boot against the beast's chest. From that boot the man retrieved his dagger, as darkness pooled at the corner of his vision. Crying out in pain and anger, Delita drove the smaller blade into the Lucavi's eye.

Velius did not relent, somehow squeezing harder in an attempt to force the life from the knight through brute force. Delita tried in vain to suck in a much needed breath, as Agrias and Zalbag thrust their own swords into the sides of the demon. Yanking his dagger free, as darkness took over his sight, Delita stabbed the beast one last time, before his mind followed his eyes into the darkness.

* * *

Taking a gulp of cool, refreshing air, Mel wondered if a child's first breath was as exhilarating. She focused on the worried, tortured eyes of the man beneath her, and knew she was finally free. That moment of elation was quickly subdued, as Mel was reminded that her imprisonment had been self-inflicted. The shame came without restraint, sweeping over her in a wave of despair. She knew exactly what her weakness had cost.

"Welcome back." Ramza said quietly, his gaze more focused than she could ever remember it.

"I don't deserve it." The woman whispered, slipping from the knight's embrace to kneel at his side. "Everything that has come to pass is because of me. I brought this darkness upon Ivalice, and I will have to answer for my sins."

A hushed flutter of sound, almost too quiet to be perceptible, drifted over the two warriors. Meliadoul knew exactly where the sound emanated from, and the horror that produced it. Slowly the woman allowed her gaze to travel to the center of the chamber, as Ramza moved gingerly to a sitting position to do the same.

Not far from where Mel had been pulled from the Dark, exposed in all of its repugnance, Shemhazai remained. The creature looked as Meliadoul expected, its physical appearance matching the tainted soul that had inhabited her flesh for what felt like an eternity. Gone were any semblance of regality and humanity, which was given to it from Mel and the battle maiden before her. What remained was something entirely evil, the very incarnation of nightmares.

Shemhazai drifted lazily, tightly bound feet floating a short distance above the floor. The Lucavi's flesh, which was visible across almost all of its form, was a sickly pallor, pale and taut. The demon remained bound as it had been for eons, both arms wrapped around its stomach to chain her wrists together behind her back. The abomination did not struggle against its bindings, for it knew there was no escaping her eternal fate. The top half of Shemhazai's face was covered by a dark, ragged cloth, obscuring her sense of smell, sound, and sight. Beneath that, bruised lips were stitched together crudely, alienating the demon from all intelligent creatures.

Yet despite the frayed thread sealing her mouth, the creature's voice filled the chamber. The throaty, barely intelligible sound was the Lucavi's namesake, and Meliadoul had the presence of mind to ignore each entreaty carried on the wind. The Whisperer was a master of deception and darkness, using the countless souls she had corrupted to speak in her stead. Ramza and Meliadoul stood, eyeing the Lucavi warily.

"It still lives." The Beoulve noted coolly, glancing sideways at Mel.

"See to my brother." The woman said as she unclasped the brooch that held her Templar robes to her shoulders. "I allowed this demon to rise from the abyss, and I shall be the one to return it."

Ramza looked as though he wished to argue the point, but after a long moment he simply nodded. The knight left her side reluctantly, making his way to where Izlude lay crumpled. The younger Tingel had taken the full force of Shemhazai's expulsion, and he remained where he had landed. The young knight moved slightly, though he didn't possess the strength to sit. Letting out a small sigh of relief, Meliadoul left him in Ramza's care, as she strode toward the Lucavi in their midst.

Casting aside the deep green cloak that had identified her as a Divine Knight and Templar, the woman came to a halt. Her gold armor glinted in the few torches that remained lit, and she knelt briefly to retrieve the obsidian blade that lay at her feet. Hefting Ramza's sword in her right hand, she tested the weight and balance of it without removing her gaze from Shemhazai's repulsive visage.

Darkness swelled in front of the Lucavi, as that dark mantra fell upon Meliadoul's ears. As was her nature, Shemhazai would use others to do its dirty work. Half a dozen denizens of the abyss appeared from within the shroud of night, summoned to do the demon's bidding. Each one, Mel knew, had once been a man. Corrupted and seduced by the promise of immortality, they were now slaves to the Dark. Mel pitied them.

Gripping the black sword tightly in her hand, the knight moved calmly forward. The defiled souls came at her silently, their expressions blank and distant. They could do nothing but obey the demon behind them, though all they truly wished for was death. Mercifully, Meliadoul granted their request.

Slipping nimbly to the side, the woman avoided the scarred blades of the first pair of apostates, bringing Shadow to bear. She darted forward, cleaving one of their arms away with a quick slash, before the knight rotated to the second, opening him from hip to shoulder diagonally. Following the arc of the blade up, Meliadoul adjusted her grip to bury the sword into the first, felling both in but a moment.

The remainder of Shemhazai's stolen souls fell upon her, and quickly discovered they stood no chance. The woman moved between them without hesitation, the sword in her hand an ebon blur as it slash through the air. A quick cut across the throat turned into downward slash, before another was dispatched with a perfect thrust. In a swift series of strokes the Divine Knight had eliminated each of the Lucavi's summoned guards, and without breaking stride she closed on the demon.

Shemhazai's ragged voice, composed of her legions of stolen souls, urgently called upon the Dark for aid. Meliadoul darted forward as the demon's request took form, two massive swords appearing on either side of its levitating body. Instantly the pair of conjured steel launched at the knight, seeking to skewer her through the chest. Meliadoul moved nimbly to the right as they flew toward her, raising Ramza's sword smoothly.

The woman parried the first, her breath catching with the exertion required to deflect it. In the same instant Mel rolled her shoulder back, her free hand snapping up as the second blade narrowly missed her throat. The knight snagged that sword as it passed, fingers wrapping tightly around the hilt of the heavy weapon. Bending at the knees, the woman leapt into the air, closing the distance between her and the demon quickly.

As she rose to meet Shemhazai, anticipating the black blood to be spilled, Meliadoul brought the Lucavi's own summoned sword around. The Divine Knight knew how the demon worked, how it thought. It was hard to have such a creature swimming within your skin and not understand it, and it was that forced empathy that served her now. As the massive conjured blade reached Shemhazai's side, Meliadoul shifted to the right in midair, and flung Ramza's sword away from her.

The obsidian blade flipped through the air once, as the Lucavi's form disappeared in a puff of black mist. Meliadoul had anticipated its movement, and knew the Whisperer couldn't phase out of existence for more than a split second. As the demon reformed, its body becoming a part of the physical realm once more, the Beoulve's blade completed its second rotation. The tip of the sword met the Lucavi in the chest, directly between its scarcely covered breasts, and was buried to the hilt.

Shemhazai could not scream, though the sound in the back of its throat was surely an attempt to. It was a strangely silent death cry, as every hushed voice in the room suddenly fell silent. Meliadoul landed lightly on the stone floor, falling to a knee and keeping her gaze locked on the creature. Shemhazai rocked back and forth, struggling in vain to find a way to remove the sword from its body. There was hardly a sound in the room as the demon fell back, dark mist consuming it long before it hit the ground.

What struck the floor instead was the stone that had given it life, and the sword that had taken it away. Mel remained crouched for a long moment, only rising as Ramza approached her, Izlude leaning heavily against him. The woman turned toward them, her breath escaping in a long sigh. Ramza's eyes crawled over her, ostensibly searching for any visible wounds, before the knight let a small smile touch his lips. Despite her feelings of shame and guilt, Meliadoul couldn't help but return it.

"It's good to see you again." Izlude said quietly, one eye closed to keep the blood flowing from a wound in his scalp out. "I was worried I never would…"

Meliadoul wrapped one arm around each of the knight's necks, pulling them tightly against her. She had never dared to dream she would be released from her self-imposed curse, and she had accepted her fate. She had taken the demon's offer in a moment of weakness, but seeing Izlude's face again, Meliadoul doubted very much she would do it any different.

"He needs to get out of the fort." Ramza whispered, his breath tickling her ear. "Right away."

Leaning back, Mel gazed at her brother, cataloging the damage he'd taken when he had been cast away. One of the man's arms hung limp, and it seemed that he couldn't move under his own power. Ramza wasn't wrong in saying that he couldn't stay longer, but they couldn't just leave Ramza.

"We need to see to your wounds." She told her sibling, examining the gash on his head.

"I'm fine." The young knight said quickly. "We have to go after Alma."

"You're no good to her in this shape." Ramza said, passing him to Mel before she could react. "I'll see this through."

"By yourself?" Meliadoul interjected, instantly against the idea.

"There's no other way. Izlude needs you, and Alma needs me." The Beoulve said with finality, and Mel knew that there was no arguing the point.

"I understand." Meliadoul said, and she meant it, though she didn't like it in the least. "Ramza, it's not too late. She's in there, somewhere, I felt her before. Alma didn't give herself to the Lucavi as… I did. Altima's hold on her isn't complete."

"I know." The man said calmly. "I'll come back with her, or not at all."

"No, you're coming back." Meliadoul ordered, handing him back his sword. "Promise me."

"Mel…" Ramza said, uncertain of what to say.

"Swear it." She pressed on. "Promise me you'll return."

The Beoulve stared at her for a long moment, his face blank. Meliadoul knew nothing in this world was certain, and that it was childish to ask such a thing of him. She also knew, however, that she could never let him leave without his word he would return. It was such a little thing, but to her it meant the world.

"I promise."

Grabbing his neck, Meliadoul pulled her knight against her chest, pressing her lips tightly against his. She kissed him until she couldn't breathe, and until Izlude had to clear his throat to remind her that she was still holding him up. Breaking contact, Mel pressed her forehead against the Beoulve's, staring into those calm hazel eyes.

"I'll be waiting for you."

The Divine Knight turned away, her brother in tow, and strode quickly from the chambers. Ramza watched her as she departed, before finally letting out the breath he had been holding. He glanced at the gauntlet that had freed her soul from the darkness, now useless after sustaining so much damage from the process. Reaching up he removed the leather straps that kept it attached to his shoulder, and pried the Cancer stone free. The mechanical arm fell to the ground with a heavy thud, and Ramza turned, his gaze falling onto the door to Altima's inner sanctum.

Alma was there. He was certain he could feel her, and the demon that had taken her, waiting for him on the other side. As the Dark Knight strode toward the door, the fort began to tremble around him, but even as stone began to crumble and fall to the ground he paid it no mind. Nothing would deter him from bringing about the Lucavi's end, even if he had to chase it into the depths of hell. He only hoped Meliadoul could forgive him if he broke his promise.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So I'm a terrible, rotten liar, and this isn't going to be the final chapter. Sorry, but hey, it lets me separate the final battle to keep it from being like twenty-five pages long. I apologize for the_ huge_ delay, especially this close to the end, but real life intervenes. I got stuck with tons of overtime at work, and was blessed to become a father. On November 8th my girlfriend gave birth to the most beautiful little poop-monster I've ever seen in my life, my daughter Arianna. So, naturally, I've been a _little_ busy since then. Thanks for patiently waiting.

The good news is that I should, hopefully, have the final chapter and epilogue done in short order. They've been constructed, but there might be a lot of editing done to make them feel perfect. I intend to add some more meat to the upcoming clash with Exodus, since Velius and Famfrit got pretty well thrashed this chapter. I didn't intend to have Rattletrap completely obliterate a second Lucavi, but once I brought him in that's just where it went. I wanted him to have a pretty powerful send-off.

**Dark Triad:** You know I actually considered writing off Murond/Mullonde as the FFT version of Lea Monde. In fact, if I ever continue my VS crossover, I'll probably try and work that in somehow. As to how it ends up in Valendia if I do that, well, maybe a Wizard did it?

I'll try to get the next chapter out sometime next week, though it probably won't be until after Thanksgiving. Maybe by the weekend, if I can buckle down and get it done. I still have a couple little surprises in store for you all.


	40. Twilight of the Gods

**Chapter Forty: Twilight of the Gods**

* * *

As Velius' soul was cast into the abyss, Delita fell to the ground in a heap. Zalbag was at his side in a moment, as Agrias knelt over the fallen regent. The eldest living Beoulve stood vigilantly over the two knights, his gaze locked onto the remaining Lucavi. A moment later they were joined by Gaff and Olan, who had paused to retrieve the holy stone that had fallen from Rattletrap's frame.

"He's breathing, but it's shallow." Agrias announced, placing one hand on the man's chest. "I can do a little to mend him, but he needs a proper healer."

"Do what you can." Zalbag said, glancing down at her. "We've still got one more to contend with."

As the warriors watched, Exodus retrieved his massive bludgeon, before lumbering slowly toward them. His armor was scored where Rattletrap's cannon had impacted, but the Lucavi seemed to suffer no ill effects from it. He was sealed so tightly within a shell of steel that Zalbag was uncertain of how to reach what lie beneath. Against a mortal man, the knight would have used the encumberance of such heavy armor to his advantage, but he doubted the demon was the least bit concerned about fatigue and mobility. He was a walking fortress, with reserves of stamina that would certainly outlast the knights who opposed him.

"The slit in his helmet isn't large, but it's our best bet." Olan informed them, as Agrias completed her healing incantation and propped Delita against the wall. "It seemed to slow him down before, at least."

"That's a small target, and higher than any of us can reach." Zalbag noted.

"Try to surround it. The bastard might be able to milk water from stones, but he's damn slow." Gaff said, glancing at the large sword in Olan's hand. "You able to even swing that thing?"

"Please," The man replied, rolling his eyes. "I've trained plenty with a sword."

"Excalibur is no mere sword, my boy."

"I'll manage."

Gaff grinned at the young astrologist, clapping him lightly on the shoulder, as the Lucavi towered over them. Zalbag and Agrias slowly drifted away from the other two warriors, sizing up the demon in their midst.

"Well, shall we?" Olan said lightly, before muttering incomprehensibly.

The spell he weaved reinforced their swords, making them far more keen than usual. Zalbag doubted it would do much to the demon's thick plate armor, but it certainly couldn't hurt. As the Beoulve sidled to the side, Agrias on his heels, Exodus took one massive step toward them. The Lucavi's mace, easily as tall as any of the humans in his shadow, crashed down toward Zalbag. The knight rolled nimbly to the left as the spiked ball impacted with stone, dust and powdered chips exploding outward. If that thing made contact with any of them, it wasn't likely they would be walking away.

The knight rose immediately, bringing his arcane abilities to bear in the same instant the others did. Spellwork bounced off of Exodus, cast off by the behemoth's armor as though they had been throwing stones. If nothing else, it could serve to distract the demon, so Zalbag kept up the assault. This at least provided the others an opportunity to slip in closer to search for an opening.

As the Lucavi shifted its focus to the Dark Knight that accosted it from behind, Zalbag moved in. Aside from remaining well out of range of the creature's mace, the safest place to combat it was likely well inside of its guard. Agrias seemed to have the same thought, for the woman charged forward in the same moment. The two knights brought their blades around in unison, wincing as both slashes glances off of the armor on the demon's sides. They barely reached the waist of the Lucavi, and an idea quickly entered Zalbag's mind.

Unfortunately, he hadn't the opportunity to voice his thought. An armored knee slammed viciously into the knight's chest, lifting him bodily into the air and casting him away as though he weighed nothing. Agrias had the presence of mind to quickly dart away from the demon, as Zalbag fell to the earth like a stone. Coughing and shaking his head to clear the stars from his vision, the Beoulve clambered to his feet.

If they could only get the Lucavi to its back, where it was in essence no bigger than any of them, they had a chance. Taking a breath to steel himself, the knight charged forward once more, his footfalls barely audible as the colossus missed an attempt to crush Olan under one foot. Reaching the demon, Zalbag thrust his sword ahead, aiming the point of his blade for the back of its left leg.

The Beoulve felt a moment of exhilaration as his sword sank into a gap in Exodus' armor, burying itself halfway into the back of the demon's knee. His elation quickly faded, however, when the brute turned to him. Zalbag wasn't expecting it to move so fast, and felt his sword wrenched from his grasp as a massive hand descended. The knight hesitated for but a moment, uncertain of which direction to leap clear, and it was nearly his undoing.

* * *

Stepping into the throne room that had once belonged to Goltana, Ramza felt a wave of calm wash over him. The burning pain in his chest seemed to ebb somewhat, and the weariness in his body and heart lessened. He was the end of his journey, with but one last battle to be fought. Then, finally, he could rest, and spend his days with those he cared about. He was done with war.

The room looked no different from when last he'd stood within it, where Delita had slain the aide who sought to overthrow the Southern Sky. Were it not for the woman form seated in the former Duke's throne, Ramza might have believed he'd travelled back to a safer time, without demons and full scale conflict ravaging Ivalice.

Alma's form cocked one head to the side as Ramza looked on, wispy white hair falling over her shoulder. The Lucavi appeared as innocent as the woman it had confiscated, but Ramza wasn't fooled. He knew what darkness lay beneath the skin, residing inside Alma along with his sister's own soul. As the Dark Knight strode calmly toward the demon, she rose to meet him.

"Ramza Beoulve. Though this is our first meeting, I feel as though I've always known you."

"You have." Ramza replied, his voice even. "You feel what my sister feels, see what she has already seen."

"That's true, though there's more to it than that."

"I don't follow."

"Ajora Glabados was not executed in some ridiculous show by the Fara Church, as you have been led to believe. Oh, I was escorted to the gallows, certainly, but that was merely to bring all the powerful men in charge together. They were ripe for the slaughter."

"If not the church, then who? I should like to thank them."

"The man that betrayed me, the very same man whose blood runs through your veins."

"Germonik?"

"Indeed. Your mother was of his stock, and thus so are you. Only Geromonik was able to cast me from your world. Fate has a sense of irony, it seems, and has placed you in my path to allow me to exact my vengeance."

"That, or it wishes to see you fall again."

"I was unprepared for the strength a mortal man might possess. I will not make the same mistake twice."

"I have to say, you seem quite calm for someone whose lover has just been slain, and whose army is being routed as we speak."

The smile that was levered at Ramza was one that Alma could have never produced, full of malice and darkness. It unnerved the knight to see such an expression on her face, and cold anger quickly built within his chest.

"A minor inconvenience. Once I've dealt with you, it will take little effort to return Morrigan to your world and turn your pathetic race into pack animals."

Ramza had grown weary of hearing his sister's voice corrupted by such evil, and he could barely keep the curl from his lips. Raising his sword slowly, the Beoulve aimed the point of his blade at the demon's chest. It seemed to delight the Lucavi, who smiled all the broader at him.

"I will make this offer only once. Release your hold on Alma, and return from whence you came. Leave Ivalice, or I shall force you back into the abyss."

Laughing, the Lucavi stepped down from the raised platform upon which the throne rested. Ramza took a calming breath as it approached him, Alma's beautiful eyes darkened by the creature within. Ramza met that gaze, focusing on the familiarity of his sister's soft features, and Ajora came to an abrupt halt.

"No…" The Lucavi said softly, a wildness slipping into its eyes. "She can't possibly…"

Dropping to one knee, Ajora gasped, as the air around the demon shimmered. Ramza watched anxiously, gripping his sword so tightly his knuckles turned white, as the most powerful of the Lucavi faltered. Wrapping both arms around her chest, Alma's body writhed, struggling to maintain its hold on the human soul within.

"Alma." Ramza said quietly, his voice barely carrying across the room. "Let's go home, everyone is waiting for you."

His words seemed to slam into the demon, as a wave of power washed over the room. Brilliant light burst from Ajora's back, the soul that fought for control vacating the corrupted body that it had once inhabited. That white light drifted toward Ramza, touching down beside him, instantly illuminating the entire room.

Alma formed from nothing, her blonde hair cascading down her back, as the woman was reborn before Ramza's eyes. The knight knelt at his sister's side, as Alma slowly opened her eyes. The clarity and focus in them was striking, as she stared over at him silently.

"Brother." She said with the warmest smile he'd ever seen, before Alma shifted her gaze to the demon before them.

"Impossible!" Ajora cried, rising shakily to her feet.

The demon still looked very much like Alma, though the loss of the girl's soul had stripped what little color remained in the creatures face. The body it inhabited was physically unchanged, and was replaced instead by the more pure form that Alma's soul had created for itself.

"We stand at the precipice of creation." Ramza said calmly, rising to his feet. "You and I both know the holy stones aren't evil. They are merely a bridge into the darkness, or the light. It seems Virgo doesn't serve you, Altima."

To emphasize his point, Alma opened her hand, revealing the holy stone in her grasp. The girl stood, tucking the stone away, and placed one hand on Ramza's shoulder. Ajora's face was distorted by hatred, the hollow shell it now possessed shaking visibly.

"It's time, Ramza." Alma said quietly. "Show her to the door."

A small smile touched the Beoulve's lips as Altima began to break free of its human guise, and he adjusted the grip on his obsidian blade.

"With pleasure."

* * *

By the time Zalbag moved, it was too late, and Exodus snared him in one massive gauntlet. The knight was lifted into the air with ease, the crushing strength of the Lucavi warping the steel of his breastplate. He was still able to draw breath, though just barely, and was given a moment's respite as the demon turned its attention to Agrias and Gaff.

The two warriors buffeted it with sword arts, aiming their skills for the crimson eyes that stared out from the darkness of Exodus' helm. The behemoth spun, swinging his mace in a wicked arc toward the knights. Agrias and Gafgarion both dropped to the floor, the heavy weapon passing over their heads to slam into one wall of the garrison. The spiked ball crushed the stone, burying itself within the mortar, and was quickly abandoned.

Zalbag wrenched at the fingers that held fast around his torso, as Exodus once more focused its efforts upon him. As its other arm came around, no doubt seeking to relieve the knight of his head, the other three humans moved. Agrias and Gaff had sprung quickly to their feet, using their sword skills like a hammer to force the demon's free arm down. In the moment that Exodus faltered, its hand rapping off the shattered floor, Olan moved in. The astrologist leapt into the air, using the Lucavi's bent knee to pivot and bound upward.

The young man landed on the arm that held Zalbag, straddling the demon's gauntlet and jamming the Excalibur down. He forced the blade between Zalbag and the creature's hand, the flat of the blade resting against the Beoulve's chest. Together the two of them shoved against the sword, using it as a wedge to try and pry Zalbag free.

With a groan of protesting metal, the knight felt the pressure in his chest disappear, and he fell away from the demon's grasp. In the same instant Olan was struck from behind; Exodus batted him away as though he were an annoying insect rather than a man. Sucking in a deep gulp of cool air, Zalbag landed on his feet, backing furiously as Exodus slammed its fist into the ground. Rolling away from the demon's other hand, the Beoulve began to rise, and his eyes were drawn to a length of wood and metal beside him. He snatched up the lance at his feet, a legacy left behind by the soldiers that once lived within Bethla, and charged at Exodus again.

"The legs!" He cried, though Agrias and Gafgarion had already come to the same conclusion as he.

The two knights hacked at the back of the Lucavi's knees, their form more suited to war hammers than swords, and punctuated the blows with the essence of their particular skills. Zalbag leapt toward Exodus as his legs were struck, aiming the tip of the lance as best he could.

The demon faltered, and Zalbag swore he saw a moment of realization of its fate as the lance was driven home. It slammed into the gap in the creature's helmet, blacking out those unfathomable scarlet eyes. Exodus rocked back from the impact, slowly beginning to give into the assault. Still, impossibly, the creature had the presence of mind to blindly reach up for the man who clung to the lance, balancing precariously on the diagonal surface of its unholy armor.

"Zalbag!" Olan cried, stumbling forward and snapping one arm up.

The astrologist lobbed Excalibur into the air before dropping to a knee, blinded by the flow of blood that ran over one eye. Zalbag bent at the knees, leaping into the air as Exodus narrowly missed snaring him by the leg. The knight snatched the sword from the air, rotating as Exodus began to fall back, and slashed downward with as much strength as he could muster; separating the Lucavi's head from its shoulders before it even touched the ground.

Landing roughly on his side, Zalbag rolled away from the fallen demon. Sucking in great gulps of air, he allowed Agrias to help him to his feet, and immediately turned his gaze back to Exodus. Dark mist drifted lazily from within the steel shell, dissipating the moment it touched the open air. After only a moment, the armor collapsed on itself, as the demonic presence that gave it life returned to darkness.

Using Excalibur to support his weight, Zalbag watched as Olan approached the Lucavi's helmet. He examined it for a moment, before planting one foot on the now harmless helm and kicking it toward Gafgarion with a pained smile.

"You want it? I don't think anyone else has a big enough head to wear it."

Despite all the horror they had endured, or perhaps because of it, and regardless of how stupid of a comment it was, all four of them couldn't keep from breaking out in a fit of a hysterical laughter. It filled the air around them, and almost brought Agrias to her knees. They continued until they couldn't breathe, and that was how Izlude and Meliadoul found them when they entered the courtyard; doubled over and laughing as though they had all lost their minds.

* * *

There was very little fanfare in Altima's emergence. Where Ajora had once stood, crimson light exploded outward, and the Bloody Angel drifted above the ground. Ramza was struck by how beautiful the creature was, and at the same time an edge of fear slipped into his awareness. Altima was sleek and deadly, white wings pumping lazily, and all sense of anger had left its gaze.

The Lucavi wore a tight fitting garment, exposing its thighs, and a pair of short blades tucked into knee high boots. Ramza paid little mind to the blades, for he knew that Altima was a weapon in itself, and he was more concerned with the demon. Her alluring form and attractive features were designed to distract a man, but Ramza gave it no more than cursory glance. He had seen true beauty in the woman he loved, and what Altima offered gave was merely a twisted mockey of it.

"I will lay waste to your body, your soul, and your entire world."

Altima's voice was throaty, alluring, and the malice in her words did not match her tone. The Lucavi smiled warmly at him, and it was far more unnerving than any expression Ramza had ever seen. The creature was anticipating the enjoyment it would have spilling his blood, and destroying everything he loved.

"You're no different from any of the other Lucavi I've killed." Ramza said calmly, stalking toward her. "You will fall, as they did."

"Killed?" Altima replied, laughing. "We cannot be _killed_, mortal. We are eternal, and even should you strike me down now, I _will_ return."

"Then another will come, as I have, as Germonik did before me, and cast you back into hell."

Ramza was through with words. Charging ahead, he dove at the demon, his sword leaving an arc of darkness in its wake. The Beoulve slashed at Altima's stomach, but found his blade met nothing but air. The Lucavi had vanished at the last moment, and from the corner of his eye he saw Altima reappear a short distance away. He'd seen such magic before, had fought beside Celia and Lede as they used it, and knew its limitations.

As Altima raised one hand, Ramza felt a surge of energy flow into him. He hadn't heard his sister utter the incantation that now supplied him with strength, but he recognized the components of it. In an instant the pain in his body disappeared, as an ethereal aura surrounded him, protecting and empowering him.

In that same moment, Altima unleashed its sorcery. A pillar of blue light descended on Ramza, striking the floor behind him as he moved. The pillar exploded on impact, the force of it nearly lifting Ramza off of his feet. He felt the essence of the ancient sorcery as it passed through him, and a peculiar sensation filled him up. The spell did less than Altima had intended, due to Alma's protective warding, but at the same time it had also done much more.

Ramza was unable to explain how, but somehow he knew this spell. Upon being hit by its raw power, something inside of him had recognized its base components, and the knowledge of it came to him as though he'd known it all his life. He held fast to that knowledge, letting the power of Altima's ancient sorcery come to him.

The knight was a blur of motion, his speed augmented by Alma's spellwork, as he rushed at the Lucavi. She seemed unperturbed by how easily he had shrugged off her curse, and met his sword with one hand. The demon caught Ramza's sword in her grasp, and attempted to rake the back of one arm across his face. Small, curved blades protruded from the crimson armor that protected Altima, and Ramza narrowly avoided having the blades blind him.

Casting his sword from her grasp, Altima drifted away, smiling infuriatingly. Instead of allowing her smug confidence to affect him, the Beoulve smirked right back at her, and used the Lucavi's own spell against her. He summoned the same pillar of arcane power, catching Altima off guard, and savored the look of surprise that slipped into the demon's features.

Altima vanished from sight once more, but not before the spell managed to wipe the smile from her lips. Altima glared at him, concerned at the Beoulve's knowledge of arcane abilities he should not have familiarity with. Ramza calmly circled the Lucavi, eyeing Altima warily.

"The path of a Dark Knight is an arduous one," He said casually. "And it requires one to become skillful in many forms of black magic, which most warriors would disregard. Your mastery of the arcane isn't only yours."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a pillar of flame burst forth from beneath the demon, scorching Altima before the Lucavi had time to react. She hissed, as the fire leapt up around her, and with a sweep of one arm the flames were dispelled. In that moment of distraction, Ramza had moved, closing the distanct between them. A wicked slash reached Altima as she attempted to evade him, forming a shallow gash across the Lucavi's stomach.

As Ramza rotated his grip, charging into the demon, the twin blades within Altima's boots freed themselves. The Lucavi did not take the weapons in hand; instead the short blades seemed to move of their own volition. Ramza's sword was parried away, and the Dark Knight rolled his shoulder to avoid a thrust from one of the swords.

The two of them stood their ground, the chimes of steel resonating throughout the room as Ramza fought harder than he ever had. Even with his speed enhanced by Alma's incantation, he was hard pressed to get within Altima's guard. The Lucavi assaulted him with wicked talons and both small blades, but found that she was also unable to make land anything more than a glancing blow to Ramza's armor.

Reversing his sword to deflect a slash to his throat, Ramza opened his palm, unleashing a glacial shard upon Altima. He knew the protective wards that wrapped his body wouldn't last much longer, and would leave him more vulnerable to the Lucavi's wrath. He had to be decisive, and somehow get within Altima's guard. The frigid blast descended on the demon, and Ramza surged forward, only to meet with his own spell.

Altima had teleported to safety at the last moment, leaving Ramza to be struck by his own attack. The Beoulve stumbled, quickly turning, as one of the Lucavi's blades sank deep into his left shoulder. He managed to knock the second away before it could skewer him as well, but that delay cost him precious time.

As Alma's enchantment fell away, Ramza was struck with another spell, the sheer force of it blasting him back. The knight struck Goltana's throne in a bone crushing impact, snapping the thick oak back of the seat in half. Were it not for his armor, it was likely he wouldn't have risen again, and even then he was slow in getting to his feet.

No sooner had he stood than another incantation slammed into him, the potent sorcery smashing his already strained body against the wall. Ramza felt the breath leave him in a rush, as his vision momentarily darkened. A fresh burst of pain exploded across his chest, and the Dark Knight realized that his breastplate had been consumed by the spell.

Leaning against the wall for support, gripping his sword tightly, Ramza watched as Altima drifted toward him. There was a look of grim satisfaction on her face as she approached, and Ramza gulped air into his aching lungs. He tried to calm his breathing, paying attention to every subtle nuance of the Lucavi's movement. At this rate, he was done for, unless he could find some way to get to the demon and end this.

Yanking the blade from his shoulder, Ramza tossed the bloodied weapon to the ground, where it remained. Altima saw no further use for the weapons, and assumed that the man was already doomed. She sorely underestimated his determination, Ramza realized, and that was her weakness. Pain was a weapon to a Dark Knight, and he currently had that in droves.

"After all your interference, and despite the annoyance it caused me, I'm glad that it will be I that-"

Altima was cut off as Ramza shoved away from the wall, slashing the air in front of him. The Lucavi had closed most of the distance between them at this point, and the wave of darkness that burst forth hadn't far to travel. The sword skill struck the demon's midsection, doubling Altima over as Ramza reversed his grip. A second arcane ability pierced the demon, an ethereal blade of crimson transferring some of her vitality to the Beoulve.

He didn't require much of it, just enough to stay on his feet. Thrusting his sword forward, already knowing what the demon's response would be, Ramza planted his feet wide. As expected, Altima blinked out of existence at the last moment, and Ramza was already rotating as the Lucavi reappeared.

From his blade came a surge of darkness, tearing through the air in a line toward Altima. It struck her body a moment after she appeared, sending the demon reeling. Ramza gave her not a moment's respite, assaulting the Lucavi with another sword art before the demon vanished once more.

Ramza knew already where this was leading, and in fact he was trying his best to herd Altima into her course of action. As the dark creature continued to teleport around him, Ramza chased her with all the darkness in his heart. Each time he loosed his arcane power, Ramza felt the anguish, which only served to make him more visceral in his assault. He wouldn't relent until his body gave out, as he backed Altima into the only option that remained to her.

He kept his senses attuned to the area around him, waiting for that one moment when the Lucavi acted out of instinctual desperation, and he was ready when it came. Altima avoided yet another of his dark sword techniques, appearing directly behind him. She sought to end this fight swiftly, for the demon had never seen a man behave with such disregard to his own condition.

The Lucavi, despite their familiarity with humankind, could never understand true human nature. They could not fathom that a man could, for a cause greater than his own life, willingly sacrifice himself for victory. They would never understand that to Ramza, death had always been an acceptable outcome, should it bring about the downfall of their evil. Because of this, and despite her nature, Altima was experience some small measure of uncertainty and fear. Ramza had counted on that.

As Altima flashed into existence behind him, Ramza was already pivoting; using the momentum to turn what would have been the demon's talons slashing his throat into a glancing gash along the side of his neck. In the same instant the knight thrust his sword deep into Altima's gut, pulling the Lucavi into an embrace of death. Releasing a wail that deafened the knight, Altima thrashed, falling away from Ramza's sword and landing upon the floor.

* * *

Izlude stood, dumbfounded, for several long moments. He wasn't certain what kind of mania had possessed the knights in the courtyard, and for a moment he was wary of the hysterical laughter that filled the air. The entire area looked like it had been scorched by hellfire, and Izlude noted silently that he'd never seen such destruction in such a small area. The group of warriors that were scattered throughout the courtyard looked no better, each one covered with grime and blood, wearing their injuries and fatigue like a suit of armor.

With Meliadoul's aid, the young Blade made his way toward Agrias and Zalbag, who sobered considerably as they neared. Gaff and Olan were slower in reaching them, hindered by age and a gushing head wound. Izlude smiled warmly at the four warriors, holding fast to his sister, as Agrias quickly looked him over.

"How do you feel?" The Holy Knight asked, motioning Zalbag toward Delita, who rested not far off.

"I've been worse." Izlude replied, his gaze falling upon the empty armor near them. "I see you dealt with Exodus."

"I did, though they might have helped some." Gaff said, dusting himself off before grasping Mel's hand tightly. He was the first of them to acknowledge her presence. "It's good to see you back among the sane."

Meliadoul nodded shallowly, her gaze downcast. It would be some time, Izlude was certain, before his sister would be able to speak openly with those she had once called her friends. The shame of her decision would weigh heavily upon her, as would the burden of knowledge the Lucavi had left. Izlude felt, sometimes, he would be overwhelmed with what he had gleaned from Chaos.

"Where's Ramza?"

Delita's voice was a rough whisper as he approached, supported heavily by Zalbag. The regent looked like he'd been thoroughly thrashed, and was definitely in worse shape than Izlude. Judging from the shape his armor was in, he was no doubt bleeding internally, and required a good deal of care immediately.

"He remains within the bowels of the fort." Meliadoul supplied. "With Izlude's injuries, he had to face Ajora alone…"

"I've still got some fight in me." Gaff replied gruffly. "What say we join him? I wouldn't mind giving that bastard a piece of my mind."

"If only we could. Mel was planning to return once she got me to safety, but the way shut behind us. Either Ajora wanted to face him alone, or Ramza didn't want to risk anyone else being hurt."

"There must be another way." Agrias said quietly, her gaze falling upon Zalbag.

A deep rumbling shook the fort, nearly peeling Delita from the Beoulve's shoulder. Bethla trembled violently, casting massive chunks of stone to the ground around them. However Ramza was faring deep inside the garrison, the fort itself was suffering. Before much longer, it was likely that they wouldn't be able to get out of the collapsing mortar, much less go deeper within.

"Ramza is the strongest man I've ever known." Zalbag called over the rising din. "If anyone has a chance against that monster, it's him. We should concern ourselves about getting back to the army. Delita and Izlude need attention."

The others nodded reluctantly, and quickly the gathered heroes departed the courtyard. All around them, the walls of Bethla crumbled and came crashing down, which made for a treacherous trek toward the outer ramparts. It was relatively slow going, and Izlude cursed himself for his inability to move more quickly. He and Delita were slowing the others down, but he knew better than to suggest they be left behind. He didn't much care to have his sister add to his injuries for speaking of such things.

Shuffling through one of the training yards, the warriors rushed toward the heavy doors of the garrison, which had been torn loose from the strain on the fort. They struggled over fallen stones and debris, narrowly avoiding one of the massive doors as they collapsed next to them. Then they were free of the suffocating walls, coughing through a haze of dust, when Izlude realized that they were not yet safe.

"How exactly are we supposed to get back to the ground?" Agrias asked, apparently coming to the same conclusion.

"We have to signal Val somehow," Olan replied, wiping blood from his brow. "Hopefully she can transport us back without-"

The man's words fell, as his gaze fell upon the massive object that drifted down from above. Izlude felt his breath catch in his throat, recognizing one of the Lucavi airships as it descended rapidly toward them. They were vulnerable outside of the fort, with no cover and no way to defend themselves from the horde of demons that surely manned the expansive ship.

Agrias and Zalbag stepped in front of the others, drawing their blades and sharing a worried look, as the deck of the airship fell into view. It looked as though it was barely staying adrift, groaning like a dying beast as it came to a slow stop. For a long moment, none of them moved, until a familiar face peered down from over the demolished craft.

"If I get any closer," Mustadio called, tossing a thick length of rope down to them. "I'm going to end up crashing this thing, so you're going to have to climb a little."

The relieved laughter that slipped from Izlude's lips aggravated his wounds, but he didn't care in the least. Quickly, Zalbag and Olan clambered up the rope, before a sling was fashioned for Delita and Izlude. The three men on the ship hoisted them up onto the deck, before throwing the rope back down for the others.

"Rattletrap?" Mustadio asked, one eye wrapped in a filthy strip of cloth.

"He destroyed himself, taking one of the Lucavi with him." Olan said, clasping the machinist's shoulder with one hand.

"Oh." The man replied, looking crestfallen. "I found him pinned underneath this ship, and I didn't want to set him loose in the fort, but the damned pile of gears _asked_ me."

"He saved us." Zalbag said, helping Agrias onto the deck. "Were it not for your golem, none of us would have made it out."

Izlude collapsed against the broken mast of the Lucavi vessel, closing his eyes to try and fight back the aches in his body. After a long moment, something pulled at his awareness, and the young knight shifted his gaze to the fort. There, wings pumping harder than usual, Atro was lifting itself into the air. The chocobo warked in triumph, its beak snapping at the air, before setting off toward the inner walls of Bethla. Izlude smiled as he watched Ramza's mount set off, knowing what it sought within the fort.

"Fly, you beautiful bird."

* * *

Leaving Altima to writhe in agony, not wishing to watch the creature as it slowly lost its hold on this world, Ramza turned and walked away. He cared not for the Lucavi's suffering, nor their cry of anguish; knowing that he had defeated it was enough. Careful not to jar his wounds, the knight slowly made his way to his younger sibling, smiling slightly.

Alma met him with warmth, embracing Ramza with a fierce strength that set his injuries aflame. He ignored the pain entirely, focusing on the woman he had loved and protected from the moment she had been born. Separating, Ramza took her hand and turned toward the door.

Their departure was halted by a new, alien sound from behind. Ramza glanced back warily, as Altima slowly made her way to her feet. The Lucavi was trembling, raw power pouring off of her dying form. To the Beoulve's horror, the creature began to change. Flesh and sinew were stripped away, as a dark light coursed through Altima's body.

"No…" Ramza said quietly, moving to stand in front of his sister.

The demon rose into the air once more, its body reshaping and growing in mass, as all semblance of humanity was torn asunder. Replacing its skin was bone and muscle, as the monster howled. It no longer resembled the beautiful succubus, the alluring creature that he had run through. It was something wholly of the dark; the true embodiment of death and pain, and Ramza knew his work was not yet done.

Alma's hands pressed against his back, as the Lucavi roared, and the knight felt a wall of magical power form around him. The shield wrapped around Alma and Ramza like a second skin, as Alma called upon ancient white magic that few living had even heard of. In that same instant, a wave of destruction burst forth from Altima.

The room around them, the entire fortress, seemed to buckle under the power that flooded outward from the demon. The walls of the throne room were stripped away, and the ceiling was completely decimated. What remained was a shredded skeleton of the garrison's inner sanctum, as dark storm clouds circled high above. A cold wind whipped across Ramza's face, and he could hardly believe they had made it through such devastation unscathed.

Dispelling the shield that had protected them, Alma moved to his side, her worried gaze falling onto him. Ramza knew his sister wouldn't leave him to deal with the demon alone, and there was little Ramza could do to protect her from such a pure evil. The woman was willing to follow him into the darkness, possessing the same capacity for self sacrifice. Ramza wouldn't allow it.

He spotted the descending black shape from the corner of his eye, and was turning toward his sister before the chocobo had even reached them. Placing a comforting hand on Alma's shoulder, he smiled gently at her, wishing to keep her face etched into his memory.

"I'm sorry, Alma…"

Before the woman could protest, before she could do anything but level a shocked gaze at him, Ramza weaved a quick spell. Alma's eyes drifted slowly shut, as the sorcery urged her into a dreamless sleep. She sagged against him, her head lolling to one side.

The spell wouldn't last long, but hopefully long enough to get her clear of all this carnage. As Atro came to a light stop next to him, Ramza took the beast by the neck, slinging his sister over its back. He stared into the chocobos eyes, willing it to obey his final order.

"Get her to Izlude, all the way to the ground. Do you understand? Take her far away from here."

His mount stared at him for a moment, shuffling its feet uncertainly, until finally the bird warked its acquiescence. Ramza nodded, motioning the creature away, and watched as it took to the skies again. He waited until it was gone from his sight before turning back toward the Lucavi before him.

"You should have stayed down." Ramza said coldly, tightening his grip on the hilt of his black blade.

Deep, rolling laughter slipped from within Altima, filling the air around them. High above, black clouds mirrored its sound, the sound shaking the foundation of the world around Ramza. The fort continued to tremble from the sheer power Altima had summoned when it stripped itself of what little humanity it possessed, and slowly the demon drifted toward him.

* * *

"This is going to be a little rough." Mustadio called over a peal of thunder, navigating the Lucavi ship away from the fort.

Agrias held fast to what little remained attached to the deck, her gaze locked on the Beoulve next to her. Delita slumped beside them, held in place by both knights, as the airship began to descend. It took Agrias only a moment to realize, as Mustadio lashed himself to the helm of the crippled ship, that they weren't flying so much as falling.

Air whipped past them as they plummeted, Mustadio trying his damndest to keep the damaged craft from tipping. The fall seemed to last for an eternity, as the final moments of twilight washed over the ship and its passengers. With a grunt, the machinist muscled the airship to the right, pulling on a lever to bring its bow higher into the air.

"Can you land this thing going so fast?" Olan asked, struggling to keep hold of the mast where Izlude and Meliadoul crouched.

"Land?" The blonde man replied with a sharp laugh. "Who said anything about landing? This bastard is going _down_."

Agrias gulped, and decided in that moment that she would never again set foot on anything that wasn't firmly attached to the earth. Clinging to the deck of the ship as they fell, the Holy Knight turned her gaze back onto Zalbag, who smiled reassuringly at her.

"If we don't survive this," She began, biting down on her lip. "I think you should know-"

Before Agrias could finish, the Beoulve leaned in, pressing his lips lightly against hers. Zalbag took her hand firmly, rocking as the falling ship trembled. After a moment that felt like an eternity, they parted, and Agrias suddenly wasn't so concerned about dying.

"I know."

"Here we go!" Mustadio cried, at the same moment the airship crashed to the earth.

Agrias found she was nearly lifted into the air by the impact, as dirt and wood exploded into the air around them. The ship bounced once, hard, before it began to slide across the grass and soil. Slowly the craft began to rotate, screaming its distress as the hull buckled under the pressure. It tipped to one side, sliding, moving more slowly now, and Agrias clung to the ship for her life. Then, as abruptly as the ship had struck the ground, it came silently to rest. For a long moment, none aboard the ship made a sound, until Olan whooped loudly, relieved to be alive.

* * *

Bouncing across the shattered floor, Ramza rolled to his feet. Blood flowed freely from his wounded shoulder, and with a grunt the knight reached up with his injured arm. Unbuckling what remained of his breastplate, which was now no more than a nuisance, he let it fall heavily to the ground. Gasping for air, relieved to have the weight of the armor off his chest, Ramza charged at the Lucavi once more.

He was leagues faster than the creature, despite the damage his body had sustained. All his speed, however, brought him no closer to Altima's demise. Every wound he inflicted on the monstrous harbinger of death seemed to do nothing, and it almost seemed like Altima welcomed his blade. The Lucavi would simply wait, allow the Beoulve to slash at his exposed bone and flesh, and then knock him away as though he were but a mild annoyance.

Ramza did not relent, punctuating each cut with the sword arts he had trained in, and each slash only sought to slowly wear away at his already strained vitality. He knew, deep down, that he wasn't even slowing the creature down, but he could do nothing but keep fighting. He knew no other way.

Leaping toward Altima, the tip of his sword aimed at the beast's throat, Ramza was met with a swiftness he hadn't yet experienced. The Lucavi knocked his thrust aside effortlessly, raking the Beoulve's chest with its thick claws in the same moment. Falling away from the demon, Ramza's sword was cast away, as Altima slammed one knee into his gut.

The knight flew back, slamming into what remained of one of the walls of the throne room, dust and stone bursting up around him on impact. His vision darkened instantly, tunneling, so that all he could see was the cackling monster as it drifted lazily toward him. Cold rage filled him, for he knew that Altima was simply toying with him, but he couldn't find the will to stand again. He wasn't strong enough to do this alone, but there was nobody who could help him now. After all he'd struggled for, all he had fought to save, he was going to fail.

_**Holder of the Holy Stone… Promise me…**_

The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time, and the moment it entered Ramza's awareness, time stood still. At the precipice of life and death, barely clinging to consciousness, all pain was dispelled from his body. Dust and stone hung lifelessly in the air around him, barely visible in his tunneled gaze, while Altima remained suspended in time, motionless.

Calm and soothing, the mysterious voice filled him up, and Ramza found he trusted its source without question. The same light, the same power that Alma had called upon to protect them from Altima, now rested firmly in his consciousness. It connected him to the bringer of such radiance. Ramza reached out to the voice, his mind straining to touch such light.

_Who are you?_

_**I am called Pashtarot, the Knight Star**_.

_Are you of the Lucavi?_

_**No. We stand apart from those who walk the path of darkness.**_

_What do you want from me?_

_**You lack the strength to bring this creature to its end, so I ask that I might lend you mine. Partake of my spirit, allow me to join with your flesh, and together we shall cast this evil into the abyss.**_

The darkness closed in around him, slowly stealing his vision, and he knew that such darkness was one of death. As time began to crawl forward once more, breath slowly entering his lungs, Ramza knew that breath would be his last. He savored it, the crisp, sharp air burning in his chest.

_Lend me your aid._

Ramza was unprepared for the sunburst of light, brilliant and all encompassing. It filled his vision, and coursed through him, and the Beoulve realized the light was coming from him. The Cancer stone glowed radiantly, rising into the air in front of him, matching his light with its own. Steeling himself for what would come; Ramza reached up and took the stone in hand.

The shock of contact blew the wall behind him away, and instantly Ramza's mind filled with the knowledge of ages. It was only a moment of profound clarity before that knowledge was pressed into the back of his mind, and he longed to revisit it, to see everything Pashtarot had seen. In front of him, Altima came to an abrupt halt, hissing in deviance, as Ramza rose to his feet without effort.

The damage to his body knitted itself up instantly, as Ramza was lifted into the air. Light coursed through his frame, wrapping around him like a second skin, and giving him clarity of vision he'd never experienced. He could see every detail of his surroundings, taking it all in at once, his awareness expanding to a level that no man had even imagined.

Ramza stared down at his hands as they were wrapped in light, forming a pair of silver gauntlets that felt no more encumbering than his skin. The armor constructed itself rapidly, forming snugly around his entire body, and protecting him more thoroughly than any forged steel. It glimmered against the twilight, and seemed to draw all the light of the world to it. The Beoulve was bathed in radiance, a knight of the dawn rather than the dusk.

Falling lightly to the ground, Ramza turned his gaze toward the Lucavi that stood before him. He felt no more anger, nor more pain, only righteousness. Pashtarot had stripped away all his doubts and fears, leaving behind the core of Ramza's soul, that which had given him strength.

"**Your presence is a stain on this world."** Ramza said, intrigued by the deep sound of Pashtarot's voice that mirrored his words. **"I will see that you never again gaze upon it, High Seraph."**

Screaming in defiance, Altima charged him, and Ramza met the demon without hesitation. Slapping the Lucavi's claws aside with one hand, he slammed an armored fist into the creature's deformed face, the force nearly knocking the beast to the ground. He did not relent, as an ancient incantation slipped from his lips.

A sphere of radiance burst from Ramza's hand, blasting the Lucavi back and through the remnants of the throne room's wall. Altima recovered quickly, as Ramza appeared at its side. Gripping the creature's throat, he slammed one knee into Altima's chest, forcing it to the ground and descending with it.

There was no finesse to his unarmed assault, as Ramza pummeled the demon with cold, virtuous justice. Altima fell back under his hands, struggling to keep Ramza from laying into it, and failing. Teleporting away, the Lucavi tried to keep its distance, calling upon dark sorcery for aid.

Before the demon had even finished its curse, Ramza was on it again, appearing behind Altima as quickly as it had evaded him. Leaping into the air, the mystical armor weighing next to nothing, the knight kicked the creature in the spine, and Altima was thrown effortlessly to the ground.

The beast vanished once more, appearing a short distance away. Ramza stalked toward the Lucavi, each step reminding the demon how close it was to its demise. Altima knelt swiftly, placing one hand on the floor of the crumbling fort, and at once the entire island, drifting high in the sky, shook violently.

"You cannot stop the inevitable!" It cried in a voice distorted by fury and darkness. "I will return, and I _will_ have this world."

Ramza took two steps before leaping, vanishing from sight and closing the distance between them in an instant. A length of light burst from his hand, forming a radiant sword from thin air as he launched toward the Lucavi. Altima had no time to escape, Ramza's speed was too great, and with a sickening sound the knight plunged the blade deep into the demon's chest. Despite himself, the knight smiled, closing one hand tightly around Altima's throat.

"**You shall not escape judgment."** Ramza said, his voice echoing through the sky. **"I will make certain you never set foot in Ivalice again, even if it means following you into the depths of hell."**

* * *

With a grunt, Izlude shrugged out of his armor. His body ached, but the wounds he'd sustained had been addressed, and he was able to move under his own power. The forces of Ivalice had all gathered, save for the knights dispatched to clean up after their victory over the Lucavi horde. Izlude stood beside his sister, as Ovelia saw to Delita's injuries personally.

Meliadoul kept her gaze locked on the sky fortress, arms crossed and face blank. Izlude could guess at the thoughts running through her head, but he did not try to comfort her. The knight knew his sister well enough to know that it would be folly, and she would only glare at him. She was as stubborn as ever when it came to expressing her fear, and he couldn't fault her for that, he was the same way.

As he removed his gauntlets, relishing in the cold breeze that drifted over him, Izlude rubbed the tension from his arms. The siblings stood side by side, performing a silent vigil over the fort as Ramza fought for their future. Standing there, Izlude felt worthless, but he knew there was nothing he could do. They had no way to come to his friend's aid, and dwelling on that wouldn't help him. All the Tingels could do was silently pray.

"Look, there." Mel said quietly, indicating a dark shape as it fell from the heavens.

Zalbag and Agrias arrived at their side, squinting up into the darkness as well. Izlude felt a thrill rush up his spine, as he recognized the black form that descended toward them. He held his breath, as did his sister, as the chocobo dropped from the sky, a tangled mess of blonde hair streaming out behind it. Atro touched down directly in front of them, and Izlude had barely taken a step forward before Alma vaulted from the mount and into his arms. She nearly knocked him to the soft grass, and Izlude pulled the woman into a tight embrace, closing his eyes and drinking in her scent. They clung to each other for a long moment, oblivious to the world.

"Where's Ramza?" Mel asked, her voice hardly a whisper, and Izlude's relief was instantly cast away.

Alma spun in his grasp, her gaze rising toward the fort. She stared at it for a long moment, before shifting to look upon Meliadoul. There were tears in the girl's eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Instead she gently touched Mel's hand.

"He forced me away." Alma said, sucking in a sharp breath. "I was prepared to stay with him, and he knew that, so he knocked me out. When I came to, this wretched bird wouldn't turn around."

High above them, the heavens cried out in anguish, and a massive peal of thunder sounded above the floating fort. Even from so far below, with scant light left from the now sleeping sun, all eyes trained on Bethla could see it begin to tremble. It shook violently, before the entire garrison began to fall to the earth.

"No!" Mel cried, breaking away and sprinting toward the plummeting fortress.

Izlude started after her, with several of the others behind her, as his sister rushed ahead. His gaze darted between Mel and the fort, as it seemed to hang above the earth, inching toward the ground. As he watched, the very earth that had been a gateway to the demon horde opened up, and the garrison began to disappear from view.

Ahead of him, Atro landed lightly, running alongside Mel for a moment before the woman leapt onto its back. She was in the air before Izlude could cry for her to stop, skirting across the ground as fast as the fatigued chocobo could manage. Izlude did not break stride, pulling Alma along with him, as Bethla continued to sink into the abyss. It took only a few moments for the fort to vanish entirely, and Izlude could only hope he could reach the doorway before his sister did something rash.

"He got out in time." The knight said breathlessly, glancing at Alma, the sound of Ramza's friends and allies on his heels. "He got out."

Silently, Izlude continued that mantra as they ran; reaching the crest of a small hill that had obscured the gateway. There he came to a stuttered stop, his gaze crawling over what lie below. The earth had formed a bowl, a perfect half circle of polished stone, where the portal had once resided. There was no sign of the garrison, nor of the door the Lucavi used to invade Ivalice. Releasing his hand, Alma took off down the hill, reaching the chocobo that stood alone.

The girl slipped over the lip of the crater, followed immediately by Izlude, Agrias, and Zalbag. They slid down the smooth surface quickly, as darkness descended finally upon Ivalice. Somewhere behind them, a lit torch carried by one of their other allies served to illuminate some of the massive wound in the earth. Izlude bound to his feet the moment he had purchase, winded, and stumbled after Alma.

When he finally reached the woman he loved, she was kneeling beside his sister. Meliadoul was slumped forward, fists planted against the polished stone beneath them. Izlude nearly collapsed next to Alma, placing one hand on Mel's back as she wept quietly, her tears falling onto a length of black steel.

"He promised…"

Before her, the only things left unscathed by the destruction of the portal and the fort, was Ramza's sword and the stones he had carried.

* * *

**Author's Note:** When I started this story, I had only a handful of scenes planned out. The one with Delita rupturing the sluice to obliterate the Hokuten, an airship battle high in the sky, Mel giving herself to Morrigan, the epilogue (which will follow shortly), and finally, Ramza plummeting to hell with Altima. Everything else was written by the seat of my pants. I hadn't originally planned on him using one of the Scions of Light for strength, obviously, since I hadn't even included the Dark ones as Lucavi. I decided on that immediately after introducing Shemhazai, and I wanted to touch on that.

Some of you might not like that Ramza was forced to ask for help to finish Altima, even if he was soloing the bastard, but I felt it would be a great twist. I wanted to show that Ramza doesn't fight for himself, and he doesn't allow his pride to govern his decisions. He would willingly accept the aid of a higher power, if it meant the destruction of that which threatened Ivalice. I honestly feel Ramza's humility is the biggest trait, next to his need to do the right thing. I don't think for an instant that he would choose his pride as a warrior over Pashtarot's offer, if it meant Altima's destruction.

Aside from that, this was probably the most taxing and enjoyable chapter for me to write, though I _know_ I'm going to lovewriting up the epilogue; I've had every bit of it in my head for months. I tried to offer a serious sense of mood whiplash in this final chapter, bouncing from elation to anger and finally to sorrow. I felt it came across just as intended, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

That said, I'm working on the epilogue right now, as I put off touching it until I had everything else done.

**Dark Triad:** I tried to make it so that the true personality was coming from Morrigan and Ajora, and not the Lucavi. The two human hosts had used the demons as much as they were being used, and I wanted to give them distinct voices. Morrigan saw that more than anyone else. I also fixed the line break mistake I made last chapter, thanks for noticing it.

**Vegeta the 3rd:** Well, Ramza did throw back a little Ultima fire, but I honestly couldn't think of a way to properly explain how he could have learned it, so I fell back on a Wizard Did It, kind of. I tried to imply that with his knowledge of Black Magic from becoming a Dark Knight, he was able to pick up on the spell.

**KnightOfHolyLight:** I dunno about a mass wedding, but the epilogue should hold some interesting developments for the characters that remain. You'll just have to guess where their paths will take them now that the world is safe again!

**Caellach Tiger Eye:** Yup, Ramza and Izlude had planned on using Cancer to banish Shemhazai all along. It's been stated in the story, by Mel ironically, I believe, that the stones aren't necessarily evil. That's pretty much made canon for my story _now_, with Virgo and Cancer coming directly to Alma and Ramza's aid. I wasn't too keen on blowing Famfrit to little demony bits either, since I loved how he was designed, with the chains and all, but someone had to bite it first. I figured Exodus would be more of a stonewall of Lucavi pain than Famfrit would be, and wanted Delita to stabbity Velius to death.


	41. Repatriate

**Epilogue: Repatriate**

* * *

More than half a year had passed since the Bloody Angel Altima, and subsequently Bethla Garrison, descended into the abyss. In the two seasons that followed, Ivalice began to recover from the devastation that had racked the southern coast, and the carnage brought on by the Lucavi horde. An era of relative peace, as unstable as the continent was, had replaced one of war and hatred.

Two short weeks after the decisive battle against the Lucavi, Ivalice was home to perhaps the largest wedding ceremony in its long history, held in Lesalia. Thousands arrived to see Queen Ovelia wed to Delita Hyral, and not a soul was turned away from the festivities, be they noble or common of blood. Not long after that, the Treaty of Lions was signed, granting sovereignty to Gallione, Zeltennia, and Limberry, while the kingdom of Fovoham was folded into that of Lesalia. New nobility was established in these kingdoms, with the rule of Gallione falling to the last surviving son of House Beoulve.

Lionel, which had been consumed by the sea, was slowly beginning to reemerge from the depths of the Bugress, and was haven for bandits and thieves seeking to salvage what remained. Despite some small conflicts throughout the land, the people of Ivalice experienced hope for the future, and a mutual respect for those who had also survived the demonic invasion. The citizens, while not always happy, were for the most part content.

Free in name and spirit, Bervenia stood as a beacon of hope, setting the standard for every other city in Ivalice. Within the walls of the city stood an inn, unlike any other within Ivalice, due to the legends that surrounded those that had once called it home. It was at this place, on this particular night, that a handful of men and women had been summoned, gathering to celebrate a holiday that was not recorded anywhere but in their hearts.

Dusting himself off, Olan Durai took a calming breath, as he allowed his gaze to travel to the sign above the inn's door. 'The Lion's Den' was emblazoned above a relief of a golden lion, its craftsmanship superb. The young astrologist hesitated, letting the cool night air settle his nerves, until a nudge urged him out of a silent reverie.

"Lighten up." Val said lightly, taking his hand in hers. "I don't understand why you're so nervous in the first place."

"It's just been awhile since I've seen any of them, and what if they didn't like it? What if they thought I didn't do him justice?"

"Who would think such a thing?" The woman replied, rolling her eyes. "Now get in there, before I _force_ you in."

Olan shot the sorceress a look, before slowly opening the door to the inn. Stepping into the warm light, his gaze wandered over the large pub that served any and all comers. The room looked much as he remembered, when it had served as a dining room, aside from the dozens of patrons scattered throughout. Of all the places to find a cheap drink in Bervenia, none were as sought after, and the Lion's Den always had guests.

Among them, Olan recognized several men at arms, as they had once belonged to the kingdom he had served. Four former Knight Blades glanced at him as he stepped across the threshold, a shallow nod their only acknowledgement of his presence. Returning the gesture, Olan slipped into the room, searching for the owner of the establishment and commander of those men.

Instead, he spotted Alma, and her face brightened the moment he caught her gaze. Slipping out from behind the bar, leaving the serving duties to the real employees of the inn, the blonde woman slipped between her patrons to meet them. Wordlessly, she pulled both Olan and Val into a tight embrace, the smile on her face infectious.

"It's about time you finally came around." She scolded them, taking both of their hands and making her way toward the back of the expansive room. "Everyone else has stopped by for a visit at least _once_."

"Apologies, I've been rather busy." Olan countered lamely, blushing.

"Oh, don't I know it!" Alma replied, before her gaze jumped to something that required her attention. "You'll have to excuse me for a moment."

As the young Beoulve scurried off to deal with whatever had grabbed her interest, Olan and Val settled down at the large table that had been reserved for them in the back of the tavern. Absently, the astrologist stroked a familiar scar in the wood, recognizing the dining table in an instant.

"They seem to be doing quite well for themselves." Val noted, nodding in appreciation of the business.

"It's all Alma's doing." Izlude said lightly, falling into a seat near them. "I have no skill at managing a budget, let alone employees. She manages to do it without _any_ of them trying to poison her, and I have no idea how."

The knight shook Olan's hand tightly, before leaning back in his seat and smiling. For several minutes, the three of them discussed the Lion's Den, though mostly Olan and Val merely listened to some of the many stories Izlude had about the place. The most popular bar in town had its share of mishaps, which came as no surprise.

"Any word from Beowulf and Reis?" Olan inquired between the knight's tales, having not heard anything from them in some time.

"They weren't able to make it, what with all the work Simon has been doing with the Germonik Scriptures. There are still some members of the Glabados Church who seek to refute his claims against Ajora, but for the most part the people have ignored them. It's hard to keep telling the same lies when all of Ivalice came face to face with Ajora's true nature."

"Simon's not in danger is he?" Val asked, concerned.

"That's where Beowulf comes in. I shouldn't be mentioning this, as official word hasn't been made, but the former Gryphon Knights of Lionel have formed what they're calling the Templars of Germonik. They remain at Orbonne, to protect the scriptures, and Simon, as he continues translating the text."

When Alma arrived and took a seat next to Izlude, with free drinks for Olan and Val, a comfortable silence fell over them. Olan had never been that close with the others, though they all considered him a friend. It was enough for the astrologist that they could fall into such a companionable quiet, though he thought perhaps he shouldn't have arrived so early.

It wasn't long until Izlude's eyes slipped away from them, and the smile that touched his lips instantly gave away the identity of the next arrivals. Olan turned in his seat, following the knight's gaze to the cloaked figures who strode confidently through the room, paying no mind to the eyes that fell on them.

Izlude and Alma had risen before the pair reached them, and immediately embraced Meliadoul. The woman's face was cool and distant; though it was clear she was happy to see them. She hugged them stiffly at first, but the embrace quickly softened, her true nature slowly emerging. Beneath the deep gray cloak, an even darker shade of armor was plainly visible, a message to any drunken brigand who thought to approach her.

Gafgarion was far less shy in his greeting, nearly crushing Izlude's neck in a masculine embrace before clapping Olan on the shoulder. He and the astrologist had developed something of a verbal rivalry during their time together, and Olan was pleased to see that the months since they'd last met hadn't changed his demeanor. Gruff and plainspoken as he may be, the old knight was good company.

"Is the room unlocked?" Mel asked calmly, releasing her hold on her sibling.

"Of course. I opened it up a little while ago."

"Thank you."

With that, the woman departed, striding purposefully from the room and toward the stairs that lay beyond. The others settled back into their seats, watching Meliadoul as she slipped down the hall.

"How is she doing?" Alma asked, turning a soft gaze onto the Dark Knight.

"I've only met one other person who was able to learn as quickly as her, and she possesses as much determination as he did."

"You know that's not what I meant." Alma replied, frowning thoughtfully.

"She still blames herself for what came to pass." The aging knight sighed, leaning forward. "And the nightmares plague her yet, though less frequently. It will take some time, but eventually she will come around."

As the others spoke of her condition, Meliadoul slowly climbed the stairs outside of the bar. Every room on the second floor had been furnished for guests of the Lion's Den, save for one, and it was that room the woman sought. As she approached the room, a single guard stepped away from the door, nodding to her.

"Lady Tingel," The former Blade said quietly. "Izlude left the key next to the bed."

The Dark Knight said nothing as she opened the door, though she smiled slightly at him. Dismissing himself, the warrior slipped down the stairs, toward the dormitory he shared with his fellow knights. Closing the door behind her, Meliadoul's gaze wandered over the room, taking it in with one slow sweep.

Nothing had changed inside since the day its original inhabitant had left, and Mel realized she'd been holding her breath. Releasing it slowly, the woman slowly circled the bedroom, dragging her fingers across the familiar armoire along the wall. Standing in the center of the room, she could almost believe he would come walking in the door, though she knew such thoughts were foolish.

Shaking her head to clear it, the knight wandered toward the comfortable bed, and collapsed face down upon it. She lay there for a long moment, stroking the linen that covered it. Meliadoul swore that even after all this time she could still detect his scent in the sheets, even though she knew it was only a faded memory.

While Mel took refuge in her reminiscence, the others who had gathered turned to welcome four more arrivals, who carried the weight of half of Ivalice with them. The first to slip into the room, alone, surveyed the scene for a moment before stepping aside. A heavy cloak concealed one side of his body, and not once did his hand leave the hilt of the blade at his side.

As the group neared the table where Izlude and the others sat, everyone but Gafgarion stood to acknowledge them. Despite how much of his defiance the Dark Knight had left behind, he couldn't resist the temptation to prod their guests, and hope for a reaction.

"I hadn't believed you'd let yourself go in such a way, Agrias." The man said, smiling devilishly. "You assume the title of Duchess of Gallione, and you put on the weight expected of nobility in no time."

"Gaff, do not presume that my current condition might keep me from thrashing you in front of all these men." Agrias shot back, leering at him. "Pregnant or not, I'm still more than capable of handling a relic such as yourself."

Beside her, a woman dressed in the attire of a handmaiden stifled a laugh, as the cloaked knight pulled out a chair for her. Alma and Izlude had no such qualms about hiding their amusement, and it took a moment for them to stop laughing and embrace the woman. Clearing her throat to keep from falling into a fit as they had, Ovelia settled into a seat next to Agrias. Those at the table had the presence of mind not to treat Ovelia as she should be treated, for they knew how embarassed such royal welcomes made her feel. Though she was Queen and ruled all of Ivalice, with Delita at her side, she was still the same woman who had tended to wounded men without concern for her rank. Despite her station, few would recognize the Queen of Ivalice in a crowded room, especially dressed in the garb of a common girl. At least, that was what was expected. In Bervenia, at least, she was safe among friends if the patrons of the inn did happen to realize who was in their midst. Few places, even in this new era of peace, could boast of such things.

"I'm sorry I couldn't make the ceremony." Izlude said sheepishly, taking the Duke of Gallione's hand. "I was otherwise engaged, unfortunately."

"Think nothing of it." Zalbag replied, hugging Alma briefly. "We'll just have to enjoy a drink together when you follow suit."

"You mean marriage?" Izlude said, his voice cracking for a moment.

The young knight's gaze slipped over to Alma, who was watching him intently. The woman smiled coyly, whispering something to Ovelia that made the woman giggle for a moment before clearing her throat. Finally, Alma shrugged, and crossed both arms over her chest.

"What makes you think I'd marry you in the first place?" She replied, raising one eyebrow, which was drowned out by the laughter of the table.

"Speaking of that engagement, rumor has it you've been quite busy." Zalbag noted, draping one arm over Izlude's shoulders.

"Is that so? I thought we were being quite discreet."

"You have been, but I happen to have a spy in your midst." Zalbag shot back, winking sideways at Alma. "Word travels, however, and I hear your Riskbreakers have nearly purged Limberry."

"Perhaps." The knight replied, sitting once more. "Much of the Lucavi's army escaped the purge at Bethla, and though the invasion was primarily centered there, I've been receiving reports of trouble in other parts of Ivalice. The gates may have closed when Altima fell, but it seems some may have escaped in other lands."

"Across the sea?" Olan asked, leaning forward in interest.

"Indeed. I've dispatched several men to distant Valendia, in the hopes of eradicating any demons that may have surfaced there."

Zalbag nodded solemnly, taking a seat as well, before he turned his attention to the fourth member of their party, who stood rigid at Ovelia's back. The Duke sighed in frustration, motioning that the man should sit.

"Wiegraf, please, sit down. You'll call more attention to us like that than if you would relax."

"I'd prefer to stand." The knight said calmly, his gaze travelling across the room.

"_The King's_ one condition for Ovelia's presence here was that Wiegraf accompany her." Agrias explained, rolling her eyes. "He seems to think Zalbag and myself unable to protect her."

"He's just concerned." Ovelia said with a smile. "We argued about it for days before I finally told him I was going, like it or not."

"Not to mention," Alma said lightly. "You shouldn't be swinging a sword, Agrias. You look as though you're about to burst. You must be getting close now."

"A couple months, perhaps. Maybe sooner." Agrias agreed, smiling and touching her stomach.

"At any rate," Izlude said calmly, glancing up at Wiegraf. "You can rest easy. I stationed half a dozen of my best men throughout the room, in anticipation of Ovelia's arrival. In this room, in this city, you'd be hard pressed to find a safer place for her."

Wiegraf glanced sideways at the young commander of the Riskbreakers, his mouth a thin line. There was still a deal of tension between the two men, which was justified by Wiegraf's actions. The former Knight of Death had proven his loyalty time and again to Delita and Ovelia, but that didn't remove the stain of his misdeeds, but he had been rewarded with what he sought during the Fifty Year War: Equality.

Delita had maintained the noble caste, explaining that it was necessary for the governing of the people, but had imposed a new system of justice over Ivalice. Alongside the nobility, the commoners were given the opportunity to elect a representative, who would speak on their behalf. It was not a perfect system, for truly there can be none, but it had demolished much of the enmity between the ruling class and those they ruled.

Finally, conceding defeat to Zalbag and Izlude, Wiegraf removed his cloak, revealing the arm he had lost in defense of the crown. Grudgingly the Queen's White Knight took a seat, though he continued to keep a wary eye on the other patrons of the tavern.

For awhile, the conversation at the table split. The women spoke quietly, mostly of children and marriage, much to Izlude's embarrassment, and the men spoke of conflict and government. The table was bustling with conversation when Meliadoul returned, at which time it fell silent.

The woman stood next to Izlude for a long moment, her initial frigidity warmed by her trip upstairs, but her gaze naturally found itself drawn to the one-armed knight at Ovelia's side. There was a palpable tension at the table as Mel stared at him, her expression cool. She would never forgive the man for what he had been responsible for, but she had grown to accept his folly. Given what darkness she had unleashed, she was in no position to judge him, and understood how easy it was to be swept away by one's own mistakes. Finally, she tore her gaze from the knight, settling it upon Olan as she took a seat.

"I read your book." She said casually.

Olan took a calming breath, smiling shyly at the woman. Of all the people he was terrified of offending with his account of the Lion War, Meliadoul was at the forefront. He'd spent the last half year feverishly logging everything that had happened, finishing the manuscript with Delita's victory at Bethla Garrison. Already the astrologist had begun his work on the second book, and scribes had been busy copying his original work to distribute it to the libraries of Ivalice. Meliadoul, as with several others at the table, had received a copy of their own.

"It was…" She continued, looking somewhat nervous before her tone softened. "It was as he would have liked, without fanfare and exaggeration."

"Oh!" Izlude exclaimed, as Olan let out a quiet sigh of relief. "That reminds me, I heard a new one today!"

"A new what?" Val asked, absently running her fingers through Olan's hair.

"After Olan's book reached Bervenia," Alma explained. "The people here, many of whom had met all of us during the war, began to weave their own tales."

"Yeah," Izlude cut in, unable to keep the boyish exuberance from his tone. "So far, Ramza assaulted Lesalia on the back of a dragon, fought back an Ordallian regiment single handed, and rescued a virgin Countess from a dozen demons who sought to ravage her; but those are nothing, this new one is by far my favorite."

On either side of him, Alma and Mel exchanged a quiet look. Out of all of them, Izlude had taken the events at Bethla the best. While the others had grieved and tried to move on past that horrible day, Izlude continued to insist that Ramza wasn't really gone. He said as much often to Alma, waving off her gentle contradictions, and claimed that his friend would return soon.

"So get this." The knight continued, grinning. "Ramza and his Zodiac Braves fought their way through the bowels of Murond, and went through a portal into hell _itself_, where they battled the evil Altima in a graveyard of airships. They slew the beast, rescued his helpless sister, and then managed to fight their way back _out_ of the abyss."

Those gathered at the table, knowing Ramza best of all, cocked their heads to the side in amusement as Izlude finished his story. Glancing at each other, the gathered heroes contemplated the tale silently for a moment, uncertain of what to say.

"Preposterous." Meliadoul said, shaking her head. "How can anyone believe something like that?"

"Why am I referred to as the 'helpless sister'?" Alma agreed, glowering at Izlude.

"It does seem a little far-fetched." Val noted, nodding.

"I don't know," Zalbag said, rubbing his chin. "That does kind of sound like him."

"Yup." Gaff replied, taking a swig of ale. "That's the way I'll be telling it from now on. I just need to work myself in there somewhere."

"Actually," Izlude said, turning his gaze onto the Dark Knight and smirking. "In that story, you died at the heroe's hands."

"What a load of rubbish!" The man shot back, spilling his drink.

The resulting mirth from the table drew the gaze of several of the other people who had congregated at the Lion's Den, and it was a full minute before everyone had stopped laughing. No sooner had they calmed down than the final guests entered the pub.

Limping around the scattered tables in the room, a slim form made his way toward the others, a smile touching his lips as his one good eye fell upon them. The other half of his vision was obscured by a snug eye patch, which apparently didn't do much to his peripheral vision, for he navigated the room easily. At his side was a slender woman, her blonde hair cropped shorter than it had been when last she'd been seen.

The pair were dressed lightly, the woman unconcerned with modesty. As she sauntered alongside her companion, the eyes of a dozen men fell on her swaying hips and exposed navel, but she paid them little mind. Finally reaching the table, the pair stopped, and the man waved half-heartedly.

"You know," Agrias said, leaning over to speak loudly to Alma. "An order has gone through to arrest the Sky Pirates who have begun to loot Lionel province, and a large bounty was placed on the Captain of the Ixion."

Laughing nervously, Mustadio rubbed the back of his neck, as Celia took his arm and dragged him around to a pair of open seats. He paused long enough to shake Olan's hand firmly, before letting the woman tow him into his chair.

"I'm afraid I've heard nothing about that." The man said lightly, smiling back at Agrias. "I am simply a humble salvager, seeking to restore the relics of a bygone era. It's not _my _fault it happens to be very profitable."

"Uh huh." The knight replied, rolling her eyes.

"What's it like down there?" Olan asked, practically at the edge of his seat.

"Well," Mustadio began, shrugging. "When the sea began to recede, we began to notice that it took a lot with it. Goug was washed away, leaving the tunnels beneath it wide open. It wasn't long until the bandits that moved in found the airships that were left behind by the Lucavi, or that had been there all along. Luckily for me, I managed to fix mine up before they even figured out what the hell they were looking at. A few of them actually tried to launch the ships out at sea, which made for a pretty entertaining sight."

"How do they stay in the air without the stones?" Val wondered aloud.

"Because they have stones _in_ them." Mustadio replied quietly, leaning forward. "Not the holy stones, of course, nothing dangerous like that, and not nearly as powerful. It's auracite, similar to the stones the Lucavi used, but not. It's hard to explain. Point is, they let us take to the skies, and see what was left behind when the water fell away."

"I heard there were survivors." Alma claimed, resting her head on one hand intently.

"Some," Mustadio agreed, nodding slightly. "There was time enough for people to get aboard a seafaring vessel, and some even made it to high enough ground to get above the flood. It's not a pretty sight down there, especially with all the uppity pirates flying around now."

"I do hope you didn't bring that flying heap _here_." Agrias said sternly.

"Of course not! I left Malak and Lede in charge of her in my absence, figured they could use some alone time."

"That's for certain." Celia interjected, rolling her eyes. "They can't keep their paws off of each other when we _are_ around."

"I must say," Mustadio said, laughing. "Traveling by chocobo is far less convenient."

"It's probably safer though." Olan replied. "Last I recall, you managed to crash _two_ airships in a single day."

"Oh course, let's not mention how many I destroyed with my incredible skill. I'll have you know, Olan, more people die in chocobo related accidents every year than die in an airship mishap."

The conversation remained light for the rest of the evening, as each person at the table recounted a fond memory of the man that brought them all together. After everything they had been through, after all the hardship and loss, it was a testament to the nature of man that they were able to come together. Despite their differences, despite their allegiances and conflicting goals, they were able to set aside their differences for the good of the world. It heartened Alma to see everyone smiling and laughing again, and even Wiegraf and Meliadoul couldn't keep but letting some small measure of contentment slip past their guard.

This was what Alma had hoped for when she called them all together to celebrate their victory over both the Lucavi and the darkness of the human heart. This was her gift to the brother she had lost, the one she had loved most, who gave his life for the freedom of all of Ivalice. This was his legacy, to be passed down for generations. Though he would never be there to hold his niece, or sit in the company of his friends as they reminisced of days gone by, it heartened Alma to know that he was still there, in spirit, in the hearts of those he'd been closest to.

_Happy Birthday, big brother._

As with all good things, their time together was destined to come to an end. Gradually, those who had made the journey from across Ivalice retired, mostly to a room within the Lion's Den. Mustadio and Celia departed for the Ixion that night, content to spent their night beneath the stars. Zalbag and Agrias left for their room shortly after, with Wiegraf opting to rest in a chair outside of Ovelia's chambers.

Olan and Val remained downstairs longer, speaking at length with Gaff, before all three of them headed upstairs as well. Finally, as the last of the inn's patrons cleared out, only Alma, Izlude, and Meliadoul remained. Though they were not bound by law, the three of them were joined by a bond stronger than anything else; one of love.

Among all the others, only these three knew the true scope of Ramza's sacrifice high above Ivalice. Each of them had been touched by something divine, though none knew for certain what it was. Alma was the closest to an understanding, having been in contact with whatever force had aided her in casting Altima's power away, but even she couldn't be sure what exactly that powerful light had been.

"One thing has always been on my mind." Meliadoul said abruptly, chewing on her lip and looking at her brother. "When Shemhazai was destroyed, and I told you and Ramza that Alma still could be saved, he said he knew."

"He did." Izlude said, smiling. "There was never any other outcome for Ramza. He told me, long before we reached Bethla, that we could free both of you from the Lucavi."

"But how could he know that?" Mel pressed urgently, frowning.

"He never told me, and I never doubted him. I have a theory, however." The youngest Tingel said, absently rubbing his lips. "The light that purged Chaos from me was different than the one that cast Shemhazai out of you, and the one that helped pull Alma from Altima's grasp. Similar, yes, but not the same, and I don't believe it was the stones itself that brought this about, as I once did."

"So, what," Alma asked, frowning thoughtfully. "Do you think there's something other than the Lucavi that can impose their will on the stones?"

"Exactly. Think about it, the stones are just a doorway; A way for the Lucavi to cross the veil. What if it's not just a gateway to the abyss, what if it's also, I don't know, a path to the other side?"

"So for every Lucavi, there's another being, a counterpart, of light?" Mel asked, pondering that.

"It makes sense, doesn't it? What if they were helping us, rending aid without resorting to direct intervention as the Lucavi did?"

"You think this is why Ramza knew he could save me?" Alma asked quietly.

"I do. Ramza understood the nature of the stones better than any of us, and experienced their power, both good and evil, the most. I believe he came to the conclusion that the stones would come to his aid, if his cause was just."

"He told Altima that Virgo didn't serve it," Alma recalled suddenly. "I was still a little out of it, having just been thrown from my body, but I remember that distinctly."

"What of the stones now?" Meliadoul asked, glancing at her brother.

"They're inert. They no longer react to anything at all, and we're keeping a pair of Riskbreakers on watch over them at all times."

"Can they be trusted?"

"Yes," Izlude assured her. "I know these men, fought beside them in the Blades. I trust them without question."

"Very well."

"Once I've discovered a way to destroy the stones, I'll have to decide if I should."

"Of course you should." The woman replied coldly. "You _saw_ what happened when they were placed… in the wrong hands."

"I also saw their potential for good. I'm not saying we should use them, hell no, but there's something to be learned from them. Trust me Mel, I _know_ I'm doing the right thing."

"How can you?"

"I just do."

Meliadoul stared at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his. In her brother's gaze she saw the same determination, confidence, and self assurance that she had once seen in Ramza. In the end, she decided that was enough.

"I should get some rest." She said finally, standing.

"Are you leaving in the morning?" Alma asked, rising to hug her.

"Yes, I'm going to travel a little, see what the world is like now. Gafgarion won't ever admit it, but his old bones don't take well to such journeys."

"Will we see you soon?" Izlude asked worriedly.

"Soon enough." She replied with a small smile. "I'll need to check in to be sure Alma hasn't killed you out of irritation."

"There _have _been a couple of close calls." The girl conceded, smirking.

Mel left them in the tavern, where no doubt Alma still had a little to do before she could sleep. Instead of heading upstairs, however, the woman slipped back into the brisk night air. Bervenia was sound asleep, as the midnight hour had already passed, and it was calming to see the darkened windows around her.

Making her way to the where her mount was tied to retrieve her things, Meliadoul pondered her brother's musings. She had felt some strange sensation when she was free of Morrigan's influence, but she couldn't bring herself to believe it was some divine being. It was simple magic, not a miracle.

As she approached the alley beside the inn, a familiar chirrup announced Atro's pleasure at her arrival. The chocobo was uncommonly delighted to see her, when normally he was rather reserved. Slipping up beside the bird, she gently stroked its neck as Atro ruffled his feathers at her.

"What's got you all excited?" She asked him, unhitching her pack from the saddle.

The chocobo was one of two things she prized over all others, the only things she had to remember the man she loved. The other was sheathed along Atro's saddled, positioned to be drawn easily should she require it. Reaching around the bird to retrieve the weapon, panic gripped her heart, tugging it into her throat. The sword was gone.

Dropping her pack, Meliadoul stumbled back, her gaze frantically searching the ground by the chocobo. Somebody had stolen the sword, the one thing she treasured above all else, and she had let it happen. She had gone inside, let her guard down, and now it was _gone_.

Slowly, she calmed some, and began to think more clearly. No, that was impossible. Atro wouldn't allow someone to simply stroll up and take the blade from him. The chocobo would fight to the death to defend that sword, and if he'd been attacked the entire inn would have been aware of his unique magic being unleashed. She could only think of one other person Atro would even allow near the sword.

Gasping, Meliadoul spun on her heel, her breath catching in her chest. Desperately her eyes searched the shadows of the alley, ears straining for any sound of movement. There was nothing before her but darkness, profound and complete, and for a moment she became lost within it. Atro nudged her arm gently, making a content noise in his throat. Touching the chocobo's neck to calm him, a wild thought slipped into her mind, a desire she'd held deep within her heart.

"Ramza?"

* * *

**Author's Note:** I seem to have gotten something in my eye when writing the 'Happy Birthday' line. Luckily it went away and I was able to finish the chapter.

It has been a long, arduous journey finishing this story, filled with twists and turns, joy and sorrow. Joy, because this was _damn_ fun to write, and I never expected it to turn into the project it has. Sorrow, because it's finally finished, over a year in the making, and I have to leave it behind. I'm gonna miss the way I played with the characters, trying my best to make them my own. Canon? Who the hell needs canon?

Oh, and by long, I mean that upon finishing this, you have just read approximately 550 pages or so, in paperback format. Granted some of those are my Author's Notes, which I told myself when I started I wouldn't put into every chapter. (I'm a damn liar, I am.) Yeah, I didn't expect to break 100k words, let alone close to 200,000. This got a little out of hand, I must say. Even so, looking back, I don't think it could have been shorter than this. There was so much I had to include, and it just spiraled out of my hands.

Okay, let me talk about the epilogue before my mind wanders off again. I hope it lived up to some expectations, and honestly I absolutely loved writing it. After like a dozen chapters devoted to stuff getting killed, it was refreshing to be able to sit back and simply revist the characters one last time, and have some fun with them. I tried to keep it from being serious, and wanted more than anything to elicit a smile from my readers. I was certainly smiling through most of it. I also wanted to have some fun with the other games in the Ivalice universe, such as the Blades becoming something very familiar to Vagrant Story players, and Mustadio picking up the Bunanza mantle of a Sky Pirate.

So, I hope you enjoyed it. I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts on this, the final-final chapter, (For real this time, promise.) and the story in general. I can honestly say I had as much fun reading the reviews and Tropes entries as you all did reading the actual story. No joke, they made my day, and I read through several each time I jumped on to work on the next chapter. I don't know what I'm going to do when I don't have those to help motivate me.

What now? I guess it's time I buckled down and actually started working on my own manuscripts. I'm currently trying to get some articles published on Cracked, and plan to sign up for a small writing contest for the month of December. Outside of that, I suppose I need to decide which manuscript I want to finally flesh out, in the hopes of doing something with it. I honestly have a dozen that have been either started, or at least played out in my head. Ironically, despite my interest in this story, only one of them could be considered 'Fantasy'. Maybe I'll put it up as an E-Book, as actually finding a publisher is a damn pain. Should anyone be interested in what I end up completeting, feel free to send me a Private Message here. If it ends up being published in any medium, I'll see about getting you a copy free of charge.

Again, thanks for all the support and interest in this project. I hope it was as fun and exciting to be read as it was to write.


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